


Episode 1: Remnant of a Dead God

by spectacledotter



Series: Mass Effect: The Next Generation [1]
Category: Mass Effect, Metroid Series
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Multi, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Post-Canon, first of an series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-18 05:45:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2337377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectacledotter/pseuds/spectacledotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>100 years after the Reaping and the Crucible Event, the galaxy is rebuilding into a new golden age. As optimistic as times seem, the darkness between stars threatens to return in the form of infighting between the remaining Reapers. The Shadow Broker silently pulls strings across the galaxy to guard against the Reapers' infighting, but even she can't end this alone. When bounty hunter and synthetic-organic symbiote Samus Aran is called on to investigate a Reaper's mysterious death, she discovers truths about the Reapers' motivations and the century-old Crucible that could end the civil war--or ignite it into another Harvest.</p><p>First of a series about Shepard's daughter and her friends. Extensive crossover but requires no knowledge of non-Mass Effect fandoms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Shadow Broker's Warning

It has been one century since the Crucible Event ended the Reaping. Commander Shepard entered the Citadel and never returned; our only knowledge of what happened in the Crucible comes from her final transmission, and from the Reaper that burst through the Citadel’s mass relay, just before the Event. This Reaper, of a unique design and incredible power, attacked Harbinger, the leader of the Reapers, and bought Shepard enough time to trigger the Event.

In the century since the Event, the civilizations of the galaxy have rebuilt. We have not only survived; we have thrived. The alliances and friendships forged in the fires of war remain strong. The krogan, quarians, and geth have rejoined the Citadel community, as have the batarians of the Khar’shan Republic, which rose from the ashes of the Hegemony. The Citadel Defense Fleet of the Reaping has become the new right hand of the Council, Starfleet. It is an interstellar, multispecies peacekeeping armada, and it is the pride of the galaxy. The Spectres are the left hand, a shadow organization that goes where Starfleet cannot. Synthetic life is easier than ever before to create, and the precedent set by EDI of the Normandy carries through in Starfleet and the Spectres. Many ships now have their own minds and wills, and are as much part of the crew as any organic. The Reapers have vanished from the sight of the galaxy, and many believe they simply retreated back to dark space, defeated.

But I know the truth. The peace we fought so hard for is not so easily held. The Reapers are not gone, but they are no longer Reapers. They are fractured, fighting among themselves for direction and purpose. My Shadow Network watches this civil war and, when we can, we strike to turn the tide in our favor. From the void of space, my beloved and I pull the strings of the galaxy and weave the future we never stopped fighting for.

Even the Shadow Broker is not omniscient, however … and some strings tangle so easily.


	2. The Dead God's Dream

Khar’shan, like Earth, only has one moon. It’s not the only way in which the two planets are similar; indeed, they’re nearly twins, despite the Sol system and Earth being a fair distance further into the galaxy. According to Varia’s historical codex, that’s why the batarians and humans used to fight over planetary territory--both sides wanted to colonize the same planets. Now, however, the two species are firm allies. In the aftermath of the Reaping, they realized they actually could colonize the same planets and coexist peacefully.

Samus Aran thinks it’s a little ridiculous that a near-total genocide of the batarian species was required for that realization to occur. _Why didn’t they co-colonize before?_

 _The Hegemony believed all non-batarians were inferior and only good for enslaving. The humans did not react well,_ Varia tells her.

Varia is a living starship. That’s the common term for the ships that contain quantum artificial intelligences, at least; to Samus, she is far more than simply a ship. She is an entity on her own terms. She’s not large, just barely smaller than a military frigate, but she has a powerful drive core, three different gun types and a cyberwarfare system, and a stealth drive--and she can use them all without her pilot. With Samus, locked into the piloting pod, they react faster and with more creativity than any single ship. Even the Starfleet helmsmen, who all pilot living ships, couldn’t hope to match them.

Helmsmen have to tell the ship to move; Samus and Varia move together.

They can converse while flying, but that is only one level of the mind. On all others, they think as one, combining Varia’s formidable processing power and Samus’s nimble, inventive turian brain. Greater than the sum of their parts.

The moon of Khar’shan is a barren rock, devoid of life and even an atmosphere. The old Batarian Hegemony, over a hundred years ago, once had a military base here. Now the base is a hollow ruin on the other side of the moon. It’s not why they’re here. There’s something else far more interesting. So far it hasn’t shown up on the scanners as the ship skims over the rock, but they’ll find it. Something this big can’t hide for long.

 _Have the batarians sent anything up yet?_ Samus asks. _We don’t want to be here if they start sniffing around._

 _Nothing yet,_ Varia informs her. Her scan of batarian extranet conversations and military communication takes but fractions of a second, almost instantaneous. They’re talking about the light show around the moon last night, but nothing in the military is considering it enough of a threat.

Hardly surprising. The Khar’shan People’s Republic is barely spacefaring right now; a few unscheduled fireworks aren’t going to rate as much of a concern. According to Watcher 21, the Shadow Net agent who gave them the job, at around 0100 Khar’shan time, there was a sudden explosion of red and green light in the sky, centered around the moon. Twelve hours later, the batarians are discussing the phenomenon with great interest. The Shadow Broker, who heads up the Net, shares their interest.

“According to the Broker,” Watcher 21 had told them in his funny Earth-human accent, “those lights had unique energy signatures. Only one group of creatures is known to have those signatures--Reapers. That’s why we’re hiring you. If there’s a destroyed Reaper around the moon, we need to know why it was there and what it was doing. Any organic around a Reaper risks indoctrination. Yes, even when the Reaper is dead,” he added, anticipating the question. “A synthetic-organic symbiote like you and Varia, however, is immune. And you’re used to, you know, dangerous situations.”

Dangerous situations are landing on a rachni planet to obtain a queen egg, being attacked by pirates on that planet, and having to storm a pirate dreadnought alone to regain the egg. Dangerous situations are leaving the rachni egg on another toxic planet, having the egg hatch and imprint, and wind up with a baby rachni follower for a while. That was a weird few days. None of those dangerous situations involved dead starship gods.

The short-range scanner’s visual flashes red. Focusing on the red reveals a large mechanical strut--no, not a strut. A leg. It looks like a giant finger, half-buried in the rock, cut cleanly from its hand. Samus leans forward in her seat, even though she can zoom by thought alone. “Spirits,” she breathes aloud.

More red fingers appear on the scanner visual. One is sticking straight up from the ground, as if to point at the sky above. Surrounding the fingers are scorch marks and, more impressively, small canyons and large craters. “There was a fight here,” says Samus, flicking the visual from highlight to highlight. “But if these are the legs…”

“The body must be nearby,” finishes Varia. “The extent of the damage indicates at least two Reapers were involved in the struggle. Likely more.”

“Reapers right above Khar’shan, and nothing’s happened on the planet surface. I do not like this.”

The red shape on the scanner is the largest yet. Samus stares at it, trying to figure out the shape, but it’s almost impossible; the closer they get, the more the red takes up the scanner. Finally, she looks up through the viewport and her breath catches. Pressed into a rocky hillside, so deep it’s partially buried, is a massive metallic form, long and leaf-shaped, narrowing to a point at the top. A Reaper.

“I think we found it,” breathes Samus. “Varia, prepare the Suit.”

“There is another ship here,” Varia warns her as she removes herself from the pilot seat. “Shuttle-sized. The silhouette is geth.”

“Geth at a dead Reaper?” Samus remarks, zipping up the skin-tight bodysuit full of circuitry that allows her to fully interface with her powered armor.

“It has happened before.” Varia sounds rather amused.

“Let’s just hope this Reaper doesn’t have viruses on it.”

The Varia Suit waits for her in its cylindrical pod in the back of the ship. Samus steps inside the pod, and the pieces of the armor come together around her. From talons to fringe, the turian is encased in the most advanced power armor known to the Hierarchy. Varia maintains an extension within the armor. Though she can’t manipulate it alone like she can the ship, she and Samus have the same integration within the Suit that they do when flying. The Suit includes booster jets in the legs, cyclonic shields over the formidable armor plating, and a miniaturized energy cannon that takes up her entire forearm and contains a small arsenal of homing missiles for good measure. She can even alter the nature of the energy within the cannon with but a thought, changing it to cryo or plasma at will. Varia’s connection allows for short-range scanning and extranet comparisons, and Samus’s own biotics add a vital hidden weapon.

The turian military has referred to Varia as “a ship within a ship” and they are not far wrong. Varia is Samus’s pride and joy--her greatest invention.

When the Suit finishes forming around Samus Aran, the pod drops down through the ship’s short elevator, and then outside. She steps out onto the dark grey rock of Ezhra, the moon of Khar’shan.  The blue planet is visible in the dark sky above, slightly eclipsed by the tip of the dead Reaper. She scans it as she approaches, searching for possible entry points. The closest is a hole in the armor, most likely created by the same weapon that sliced the Reaper’s limbs away.

 _This one doesn’t have its own weapon,_ she notes to Varia.

 _It’s not as tall as Reaper capital ships should be,_ Varia says. _Its cannon was likely sliced off entirely with the fingers._

_I didn’t think a Reaper could be disarmed. Especially not so … literally._

_We’ve never known Reapers to fight their own kind. It seems they are quite capable in that event._

Samus flings a biotic leash up to the hole, using it to pull herself up and inside.  She blasts away some debris with her energy cannon and continues inside. Nothing attacks her.  Her scanner picks up no nearby life signs, either, not even synthetic ones. _Where’s the geth?_

 _Deeper within,_ concludes Varia.

Reaper architecture is disconcerting, Samus decides, especially when they have to climb up it. The walls seem to press in on them, and the catwalks zigzag in strange angles. She uses her biotic leash and booster jets more than her cannon, just to make her way through the ship. Lighting is sparse and dim; fortunately, her visor includes night vision. Suddenly, a life form appears in the scan. The scanner seems a bit confused about what it is, however.

_Varia, what’s going on?_

_Recalibrating. Done. One life-form: organic-synthetic hybrid._

Organic beings that fuse with synthetic beings are rare, but not unheard of--Samus and Varia are such a pair, after all. But they form symbiotic relationships, not true hybrids. _Are you sure?_

_Yes._

Samus’s mandibles flare, disturbed. Is this what came in the geth shuttle? She follows the direction of the life form, finding a narrow tunnel that she only just barely fits through in her armor, then a hallway that seems much smaller than it is. Strangely, this hallway has power. The lights are still dim, but the doors are powered, there’s the soft hum of electricity and engines. She presses her hand to the nearest door and it slides open with a soft hiss.

Standing in the room is the silhouette of a bipedal creature with the slender build of a quarian. She can’t make out details; the quarian has its back to her. It stiffens when it hears her heavy boots on the metal of the ground.

“What are you doing here, quarian?” asks Samus, powering biotics around her fist but not releasing just yet.

The quarian turns, and she realizes it’s not a quarian. Not entirely. The body is quarian, mostly, but one of the arms is obviously synthetic, geth-like, and there are tubes and wires all over the body with the usual exosuit. Beneath the large, covering hood, the translucent faceplate forms around what appears to be a geth ‘flashlight,’ what they have for heads, where one of the eyes should be. It raises a flap like a quirked eyebrow, and the light flicks from red to blue. “Exploration!” says the hybrid in a synthetic voice.

Samus eyes it suspiciously. “What … are you?”

The hybrid puts up its hands, obviously looking at her biotic fist. “Name is Kiriki nar Legion,” it says quickly, “am geth-quarian, on Pilgrimage! Not with Reapers! Came to Khar’shan, saw lights, got curious! Took shuttle up to investigate, found dead Reaper, am looking for information! Truth-honest!”

A quarian with geth parts that talks like a hyperactive salarian. And she thought this day was already weird. She relaxes her fist, letting the biotic glow dissipate. “I’m Samus Aran. I’m on a mission for the Shadow Net to investigate … this.”

Kiriki beckons her over to the terminal he--or she? the body is so androgynous Samus can’t tell--has been working at. “Think Reaper was killed by Reapers, yes?”

“Yes,” says Samus. “I assume you’ve seen the blast marks. Definitely Reaper weapons.”

“One Reaper,” Kiriki tells her, hands attaching to the terminal with electric tethers, “one Reaper fighting one Reaper. Found footage, look.”

A holoscreen suddenly appears above them, displaying the Reaper’s final moments. There is only ever one Reaper in the shot besides the pieces of this one’s body--green lasers from the viewer, red from the attacker. “You’re right. An assassination, maybe?” she wonders.

“Disagreement,” Kiriki suggests. “Consensus thinks Reapers are fighting each other a lot, trying to be leaders.”

“You mean the Geth Consensus?”

“Yes.” The blue light of the eye turns on her. “Confusion?”

“I’m still not sure what you are.”

“Told you. Geth-quarian.”

“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

Kiriki shifts to look her fully in the face. She looks back down at the kid--she’s a good half-meter taller. Even for a quarian, the kid’s not big. “Born quarian,” Kiriki explains. “Got hurt, bad--accident. Family died, not me. Geth found me, fixed me, raised me. Geth-quarian.”

“So you’re part of the Geth Consensus. Linked into it.”

“Yes. But more independent. No geth programs with me, just me.”

Samus shifts her weight on her talons. She may be immune to the indoctrination field, but she still feels uncomfortable standing in the middle of it. “So you’re immune to the indoctrination, too… And you just came here because you were curious?”

“Yes yes. Started searching.” Kiriki goes back to working at the terminal.

“Why do so many quarian stories start with, ‘I got curious’?” she sighs.

“Curious people!” chirps Kiriki cheerfully. Now the voice makes sense--that’s one of the synthetic parts.

“Do I call you he or she?” she finally asks outright.

“No,” says Kiriki flatly.

She mentally kicks herself for not thinking of that first. Varia is intensely amused; Samus growls at her through the bond. Synthetic life like geth don’t always have gender specification, so the usual organic logic designates them as ‘it’. The geth, especially, took exception to being referred to as objects, however, and so a compromise was introduced (by the hanar, of all people): a third gender was added to Citadel Basic Trade Speech.

“Come come, look,” says Kiriki, batting at her to break the awkward silence. “More information--why the Reaper was here.”

Samus leans around xem to look at the terminal. “What have you found?”

“Ten years watching. Information collection--social, political, economic, cultural.” Kiriki switches through information with such speed she can barely read anything. “All about batarians. Like… records.”

“Stop there,” Samus orders xem. “Bring it up on the screen.”

Kiriki does as xe’s told. The screen shows a diagram of incredible complexity--it would take hours to figure it all out. But one thing she can understand immediately: years. Hours. Decades. “This is a timeline,” she says. “It was tracking how the species was developing… Is there anything in there about weaknesses? Using this against them?”

“No,” xe says, turning back to the terminal. “Been searching, found nothing. Lots and lots of information, but not tactical. Neutral. Xenoanthropology.”

“That seems incredibly out of character for a Reaper,” she says, frowning.

Kiriki doesn’t answer; xe is flicking through the various data packets still. Samus watches, thinking hard. We need to contact Watcher 21. A Reaper behaving like a xenoanthropologist is a little too weird.

So is a quarian in the Consensus, adds Varia. Watcher 21 needs to know about both of them. Sending contact request now.

“I’ll be back, kid,” says Samus. “I’m going to go scout.”

“Will stay here if needed,” Kiriki tells her cheerfully. “Good luck, Samus-Aran!”

She leaves through the same door she entered through, just as Watcher 21 responds to the call.


	3. Sarcophagus

Samus looked up Watcher 21's accent after their first conversation. According to the extranet, it is classified as "North American southern," which made no sense to her, and also "cowboy," which made marginally more sense, especially after some research on Earth cowboys. One John Wayne marathon later, she had a much better understanding of Watcher 21--not only his accent, but also his style. When his face appears in her visor screen, she sees tan skin, angular features, a meticulously kept beard, and the cyan glow of his cybernetic eyes, slightly obscured by the brim of his hat.

"Howdy, hunter," he greets her cheerfully. "How goes the investigatin'?"

"No hostilities so far," she informs him, "but the Broker is right--there's a Reaper here. I'm inside the corpse now. There are pieces of it everywhere, but the central core is mostly intact. We've extracted quite a lot of information on its activities."

He whistles. "Any idea on what killed it?"

"Another Reaper," she says. "The moon is covered in scorch marks, and we found video footage of the fight. A duel between Reapers."

"Reapers killin' each other? Y' sure?"

"There's something else, 21. We're not the only ones investigating this thing. There's ... a hybrid here."

"What d'ya mean, hybrid?"

"A geth-quarian hybrid. Says xeir name is Kiriki nar Legion, and xe's on pilgrimage. Saw the lights just like everyone else on Khar'shan, and, well, got curious."

"Sounds like a quarian all right," chuckles 21. "A real hybrid, eh? You're sure."

"Varia's scans confirm it, and xe absolutely looks it," says Samus. "And if anyone were to find ways to make real hybrids, it'd be the Rannochi."

21 sits back in his chair, and she can see some more of his hat. His clothing is not usually opulent, albeit far from understated, but the materials and construction speak clearly of his wealth. "This might be bigger news than the Reaper fight."  
"About that--I'm not done," she interrupts him. "One more thing about the Reaper. Thanks to Kiriki, we found what it was doing here. Or at least some idea of it. It was studying the batarians."

"Preparin' for indoctrination? Another attempt at extinction?"

"So far, we don't think so. Nothing we found indicates an interest in destruction ... it was tracking their development. How their civilization was rebuilding. There's this massive, complicated timeline..."

"Download everything y' can," says 21, steepling his fingers, "to a separate drive if y' can, please, don't want to risk your own systems bein' corrupted--and return t' Chances with the info and the hybrid."

"I'm not kidnapping the kid," says Samus, mandibles flaring.

"Hey, if--xe's? as curious as y' say, I bet y' can just ask," laughs 21.

"Fine." Her nose twitches a few times. "I won't let you take xem to some lab for dissection or anything."

"Hunter, I just want to see this for m'self. I ain't in the business of takin' people apart."

Varia's sensors suddenly alert her to another ship entering Khar'shan's orbit. A big one. "Watcher, I have to go," she says. "We might have company."

"G'luck, Hunter!" he bids her with a cheery smile.

As soon as his face vanishes from her visor, Kiriki bursts through the door beside her. "Samus-Aran! Other Reaper coming!"

"Same Reaper that killed this one?" she asks as Varia calculates the quickest route out.

"Different," xe says. Xe has a gun with xem now, one xe wasn't carrying a few minutes ago. "Maybe salvage? This way!"

Xe runs past her, down the hall--and in the other direction from Varia's calculations. "Wrong way, kid!" she calls to xem.

"No no!" xe calls back. "Have to help!"

"Help _who?"_ But she's running after xem anyway. Stupid kid. Stupid Watcher 21 and his Shadow Net. Stupid cybergenetic anomalies. The Broker had better come through on that deal, with all she's going through with this dead starship god and whatever the kid is up to now.

Kiriki leads her through narrow corridors, up strangely slanting ladders, and past twisting tubing that gives her an eerie, ominous feeling. Xe stops at a wall and knocks on it. "In here."

"What's in there?" asks Samus, flicking her visor to x-ray in an attempt to look in. The wall blocks her sight; disappointing, but there's enough materials that block x-rays to not be surprising. After all, it's a Reaper.

"Last Chance," says Kiriki reverently, standing aside. "Blast please!"

She curses to herself as she readies a missile. "Behind me, kid." Xe darts behind her--kid's fast--and then she fires. When the missile hits, the entire ship rocks, knocking them both sideways. Samus hits the wall; Kiriki winds up on the floor.

"Reaper's here!" concludes Kiriki, leaping to xeir feet and then through the hole she made.

Samus starts scanning for hostiles. "Whatever you're up to, kid, make it fast!"

_Varia, are you still in one piece?_

_I'm fine,_ says Varia--she may have enough of herself in the suit for them to be connected, but if the ship were destroyed, she would be irreparably crippled. _Either the Reaper hasn't noticed us, or we're not considered a threat._

Another blast rocks the ship. Samus uses her jump jets to stay balanced. _Why is it firing?!_

 _It's not,_ Varia tells her. _It's connecting._

Shit. That means Reapazoids, the bizarre cybernetic husks they make from the corpses of sapients and use as ground troops. "Kiriki! Where the fuck are you?"

Kiriki pokes xeir head down from above her. The geth eye is red again--the colours are probably indicative of vision types, like her visor. Maybe this one is infrared? "Up here! Come see!"

She uses her biotic leash to follow xem up, expecting another narrow corridor, or maybe another terminal room like earlier. What she finds is a massive open area with a lone, giant form in the center, rising up stories above them. It must be as tall as the central body of Reaper forms--and that means--

"We're in the heart of it," she breathes, staring up at the form. She's seen mummies before. It's not a common turian practice, but it's a ritual among asari and batarians, and humans have been known to do it. Preserved corpses placed in elaborate tombs. The giant form reminds her of that, but on a massive scale. "What ... _is_ this?"

"The Reaper," says Kiriki, who is working at a terminal at the form's feet. Literally. "All made from sapients, harvested races. Almost made one from humans, yes? Collector abductions, Shepard-Commander destroyed. Preserves racial memories, genetics... clears galaxy for new culture. Reaper philosophy, anyway, galaxy plenty big for everyone."

"So this... thing is the last of its kind, in a way," she says. "Is that what you're looking for, the information on it?"

"Yes-no. Downloading information, yes, but didn't follow it--followed datastream. Reaper itself led here, is gathering self to send elsewhere."

"The fuck are you talking about?"

Xe looks up at her, and she can see through the visor slightly, this close up. There are more cybernetics on xeir face than just the eye. "Reaper has piece of itself, somewhere else," xe says. "Beacon. Is sending everything it can to beacon, from here. All knowledge, experience, consciousness."

"It's trying to stay alive."

"Last Chance," says Kiriki again, turning back to the terminal.

She can't blame it, really. All beings have a survival instinct, even synthetics. Her short-range scanner breaks her thoughts with a warning: _Incoming hostiles._ "Kid, we've got company! We have to go!"

"Not yet! Almost!" She can't tell what xe's doing; xeir hands are attached to the terminal with little electric tethers, but she can't see anything on the holoscreens. She sets herself in front of xem, arm cannon poised and charging, waiting. She doesn't wait long.

A hand appears through the hole in the floor. Five fingers, skinny, grey skin glowing with blue implants. Few species have five fingers--it's a human hand. It grips the edge of the hole and another hand follows, then the bald head and corpse-like face of the husk. The eyes glow blue-white from the implants, but its mouth is little more than a black hole, surrounded by pulsing blue light. It sucks in air in a noisy, rattling way, remembering to breathe but no longer having lungs to give it need. The horror of it makes her pause.

The husk springs through the hole and runs right at it her with speed it shouldn't have in its exsanguinated state. Breaking from her shock, she fires energy blasts from her arm cannon; it falls, but three more spring from the hole to follow. Fast as they are, they are fragile, easily dispatched by energy blasts and, for the one that got too close, a biotically-powered uppercut that sends it flying.

"Ready yet?!" she barks at Kiriki.

"No!" Kiriki squawks back.

Two more husks fling themselves from the hole, but they are followed by--a varren? No, what was once a varren. Just like the husks were humans once, the Reaper has altered varrens as well. This one's back has been entirely opened, everything in the upper half replaced by cybernetics and other tech in the smooth dark metal and glowing blue the Reapers favour. It's bigger than a true varren, as a result, and it charges at her with speed and power no varren could match. She uses her jets to jump back and put some space between them, enough to charge her cannon. The varren-monster, this hellhound, lowers its head, displaying a long, sharp spike like a horn, clearly meant to impale. Just before it can get close enough, she releases the energy built up in her arm cannon--no blast this time, but a long, powerful beam, vaporizing the husks behind the hellhound and cooking the hound itself.

"Kiriki!" she snaps at the kid.

Kiriki finally disengages from the terminal. "Got it!"

She doesn't bother waiting for the kid to catch up; she grabs xem with her biotic leash and pulls xem through the hole after her. More husks are waiting for them in the corridor. She blasts them, but one goes straight for Kiriki before she can stop it. Kiriki, it turns out, is full of surprises; neither Samus nor the husk are prepared for the blade that slides from xeir synthetic arm and straight up into the husk's ribcage.

"Not an omniblade?" asks Samus once they've started running through the ship again.

"Unreliable!" Kiriki chirps at her, surprisingly cheerful for having stabbed a monster a minute ago.

More husks meet them on the way, as well as more of the hellhounds and a few of the turian creations known as marauders. They carry bastardizations of the old Phaeston rifles, once the standard issue for all soldiers of the Turian Empire. How old are these things? Has this Reaper carried them for a century, waiting?

The large gun on Kiriki's back is not the only one xe carries. In the close quarters of the dead ship, xe's brought out a tiny, odd-looking thing that fires large bursts of small energy blasts, pulverizing anything unlucky enough to be in the way. Such weapons were in use during the Reaping, but Kiriki's doesn't require time to charge like the old ones, and it's far more accurate. The geth seem to be more interested in continually improving on what's effective, rather than innovation for its own sake.

Finally, they reach the hole in the hull Samus had used to enter in the first place. Kiriki makes for xeir shuttle--but the invading Reaper has other plans. Samus pulls xem back with her leash at the last moment; an instant later, a red laser destroys the shuttle and the space Kiriki had been but seconds ago. Kiriki makes a strange, electronic noise that from an organic voice might have been a scream. She grabs xeir arm and pulls xem along, dodging fire from the Reapazoids pouring from the invader and from the Reaper itself.

Since her sensors picked up the arrival of the massive ship in the system, Varia had cloaked herself both in her sensor-mask and the camouflage system that hides her visually--useful for remaining secret in low atmosphere, or when parked like now. Samus thanks her for her foresight; the Reaper has utterly overlooked her. The ship, painted green and orange to match the armor suit, suddenly appears against the dark sky of the moon, her elevator lowering for them. Samus pulls Kiriki tight to her--it'll be a narrow fit--and the lift brings them up into the ship, sealing right as she begins to move.

Kiriki quickly clambers up the ladder to the cockpit. "We're moving?" xe says, seeing no one else in the ship.

"To the mass relay," Varia informs xem, "and then to the Utopia system." She displays a holographic avatar of herself in the pilot seat--the only seat--as her way of making the situation clearer. "Please strap in for evasive maneuvers."

Kiriki needs no further explanation. Xe hops down the ladder, and a safety harness drops down from the ceiling for xem. Samus steps out of the armor pod while xe buckles the harness on, and the ship rocks as Varia dodges lasers. "Hold on, kid," she says as she climbs the ladder, “we’re hitting the relay in a minute.”

"Where are we going?" xe calls up after her.

"A space station," says Varia, her avatar popping up in the seat across from xem, "in orbit around a human world, Eden Prime. We have a contact there who wants to meet you."

"Military?" asks Kiriki.

"No. The station is a resort, and our contact is its owner. He's the reason we came here."

"Samus said mission was Shadow Net--he is from the net? Broker?"

"Not the Broker, but an agent. We call him Watcher 21, but he is known mostly by another name. Mr. Fate."


	4. Chances

Samus drops down through the cockpit hatch once they hit the relay. "We're in hyperspace," she says to Kiriki, "the Reaper can't follow us now."

"If it's interested," says Varia. "It didn't come for us, but for the corpse."

Varia's holographic avatar is a twin, in appearance, to Samus, albeit in the translucent, shimmering colour of virtual intelligences. No, not a direct twin, Kiriki corrects xemself, there are differences. They are female turians, slimmer in build and lacking the head-crests of males, and their colony markings are an unusual, asymmetric pattern. Samus keeps her mandible flanges filed short and trim, but Varia's are longer, with more delicate tips. Samus is in a form-fitting bodysuit, but Varia has chosen the layered tunic look fashionable on Palaven.

If Varia wasn't translucent, they'd be sisters.

"Synthetic intelligence," xe says, head tilted quizzically. "Living ship."

"Varia and I are partners," explains Samus, who takes a seat next to Varia's avatar at the table. The living space beneath the cockpit is not a large area, and the small circular table is a holocomm as much as a work and eating surface, surrounded by four stools that can be retracted for extra room. There are four sleeping pods built into the walls around the living space, a food synthesizer between two pods on one wall, and a hatch door between the two pods on the other wall leading to the bathroom.

"Partners," repeats Kiriki. "Common term for symbiotic relationship between synthetic and organic intelligence. Similar bond, yes?"

"That's exactly it."

Kiriki pulls back xeir hood, revealing the air tubes and wires coming from the back of the exosuit's headpiece. Xe presses a finger on each side of xeir head, just behind the faceplate seam, and there's the distinct hiss of the suit seals releasing.

"Should you be doing that?" asks Samus, curious despite her misgivings. She's never met a suitless quarian in person before, though she has a friend on Rannoch she's seen suitless plenty of times, through holocomm. "We're not exactly a clean ship."

“Strong immune system,” Kiriki assures her. “Will be fine, no worry.” Xe removes xeir faceplate, and Samus gets her first real look at xeir face.

The most noticeable thing about Kiriki’s face is xeir left eye--the geth eye. It sticks out from xeir face more than the large, much more delicate-looking, organic eye, giving xem a lopsided look that’s only exacerbated by the extensive cybernetics crawling across xeir mouth and jaw on the left side. The accident Kiriki had mentioned must have nearly destroyed half xeir face, Samus realizes. The organic eye is mostly blue, with the usual quarian bioluminescent glow. The geth eye, for now, is a blue tone that more or less matches. The default setting, she supposes.

Quarian skin tones range from warm grey to dark brown, and Kiriki falls on the grey end of the spectrum. Xe has a heart-shaped face, a wide mouth but a narrow nose, and prominent cheekbones. As xe removes more of the headpiece, xe reveals tightly-curled cerebral tendrils, which slowly unfurl themselves when fresh air hits them. Quarian tendrils aren’t like human hair or turian fringes--they’re part of the quarian nervous system, and are extremely sensitive. The tendrils move involuntarily, and they’re known to curl more when the quarian is thinking hard about something. Kiriki’s tendrils have the occasional flash or glow, an indication of how extensive the cybernetics really are.

A true hybrid. Amazing.

Xe takes a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the ship without air filters, then notices Samus staring at xem. “You’re thinking?”

“Yeah,” says Samus, scratching the back of her head. “You really are a true hybrid.”

“Yes? Is that bad?”

“I… no. Probably not, anyway. It’s just--you realize there’s been no other cases of real synthetic-organic integration like that? Partners like us, we’re still individuals. Two minds thinking together. Not the same thing as you.”

Kiriki nods, cerebral tendrils curling around xeir face. “We know. Must always be a first, yes?”

“Yeah… that’s true. I hope the rest of the galaxy doesn’t see you as a problem. Or a threat.”

“Threat?” Kiriki looks down at xemself. Samus’s mandibles quiver with her soft laughter.

“Organics tend to fear what they don’t yet understand,” says Varia gently.

Samus laces her fingers together. "The Shadow Broker wants to understand. That's why we're taking you to the Watcher, our contact in the Shadow Net. The Watcher's the guy who sent us to the Reaper in the first place--he'll want the info you found."

"Mission's not done, have to find Last Chance," says Kiriki. "I want to see this through."

"Are you sure? If that Reaper is looking for the same thing we are, we haven't seen the last of it."

"Am on Pilgrimage, yes? Searching stars for something of value! Willing to give of self for greater good! Can't turn my back on this, not now or ever."

"Nothing dampens your spirits, huh?" chuckles Samus. "I like you, kid."

"Like you too, Samus-Aran and Varia-Aran!"

Samus leans against the table and crosses her legs. "Well," gesturing around them at the ship, "this is Varia."

"Not very big," observes Kiriki. "Just you two?"

"I'm a living ship, like you said," says Varia. "I function without a crew. Quite well, I might add. Would you like a tour?"

"Yes!" Kiriki claps xeir hands together in excitement. Varia, flattered, rises to her feet and starts explaining the intricacies of the ship's design and functioning.

Samus tunes them out and goes to the synthesizer to make herself kaveer, a coffee-like turian drink made from the root of the kava plant. They just left hyperspace; they're in the Utopia system now. Eden Prime is less than half an hour away. She drinks the kaveer, watches Varia and Kiriki, and thinks. Kiriki's a good kid. Smart. That boundless optimism could get annoying after a while, but she's finding it refreshing. Hell, it's nice to just meet someone who genuinely enjoys discovery and helping, after five years of assholes in prison jumpsuits and warden uniforms and a year of assholes worth credits since.

Maybe she can help the kid with xeir Pilgrimage. Bounty hunting isn't exactly a glamourous lifestyle, but it does take her all over the galaxy. And if the Shadow Net wants to keep hiring her, the jobs will be considerably more interesting than just hunting down idiots. She feels protective of the kid, though. Hopefully Watcher 21 will be satisfied with just an interview. The Net would be a very bad group to make enemies of.

Plus, the Broker made her a deal. She has to make sure that comes through.

"Hey kid," she says to xem when the grey face pops up from the engine hatch. "What kind of stuff do you need to find on this Pilgrimage?"

"Something of value," chirps Kiriki, on the move to the cockpit.

"And what counts as valuable?"

Xeir head pops down through the cockpit hatch, upside down. "Helps life on Rannoch. Seeds for planting, plans for building, that kind of thing. Or knowledge, art, enrich Rannochi culture! Or, quarian culture. Geth don't go on Pilgrimage."

"So it has to strengthen your people." She sips her drink, thinking. "No one can make that judgement but you, I guess."

"That's the point!" laughs Kiriki. Xeir head disappears, and she hears xem talking to Varia about the cockpit and the pilot pod. A search like that could take a while, she thinks, and be dangerous for a lone kid. More reason to ask xem to stay with her. Xe can take care of xemself, clearly, but xe doesn't have much experience with the galaxy at large. Or a ship of xeir own, come to think of it. And xe could be helpful in her own work, considering xe seems to be able to dismantle any system--even Varia couldn't hack a Reaper.

_I like this idea,_  Varia says to her internally.

_Good, I was worried you'd think I wanted to replace you,_  replies Samus.

_I know better. So do you. Will you wait until after we see the Watcher to bring it up to Kiriki?_

_I think so, yeah. It'll be better to know where we stand with the Net first._

_We don't have long to wait. We're approaching Chances._

"Thanks for the update, Varia," Samus grumbles as she climbs the cockpit ladder, less than pleased by the late announcement. Varia's holographic avatar in the pilot pod laughs. The avatar disappears as Samus sits down in the pod to talk to the station's traffic control.

Chances is not large for a space station, only a kilometer in height. There are plenty of civilian stations much bigger. The larger stations, however, don't change positions; Chances travels from system to system, orbiting a different planet for a few weeks or months before moving on. It's a starship that converts to a station. Supposedly the enigmatic proprietor, Mr. Fate, designed the ship himself, an innovation most militaries would pay their entire budgets for, and instead of selling the blueprints, he made a travelling resort.

The station has a small fleet of shuttles that taxi visitors from the host planet or neighbouring systems back and forth, and it also has plenty of dock space for private and public vehicles alike. Visitors to Chances stay in the station's myriad accommodations, with amenities for a wide variety of budgets and species; eat at the many restaurants that cater to both dextro and levo protein diets, as well as more specialized fare; and entertain themselves with live entertainment, an amusement and a water park, guided tours of select destinations on the host planet, and the most discussed venue on the station, the casino. Gambling in Chances's casino doesn't work like in most--a small pile of chips is included with a stay on the station, and at the end of your stay, you keep your winnings. Every last credit. More chips are available for purchase at the casino, of course, but no investment is required to gain. A rather controversial move that's confused many galactic economists, especially when the low baseline prices of the resort are taken into account. Chances should, according to any economical expert on the extranet, be hemorrhaging money--and it's not.  
  
The recent revelation that this Mr. Fate works for the Shadow Broker explains quite a bit about the rather anomalous position Chances occupies.  
  
Kiriki wears xeir mask while in the station, primarily to keep the unusuality of xeir appearance down to a minimum, but also because of the sheer amount and variety of people there. "Immune system is good, but not that good," xe explains to Samus. Samus covers her zero suit with a layered tunic with long sleeves, heavy boots, and a magnabelt with sidearm. Fate has a fairly strict no-weapons policy when it comes to his resort's guests, but he makes an exception for "business associates," as he called her.  
  
Currently, Samus and Kiriki are sitting in one of the resort's lounges, a casual location with large holoscreens playing various extranet stations. There's an entire krannt of krogan in a corner drinking ryncol and watching a sports game from Tuchanka. It's some sort of combination of gladiator combat and several large balls, and Samus can't make heads nor tails of the rules. They erupt in battle-cheers at one point, complete with headbutting, so something must have gone their way. Kiriki slurps on a bright blue smoothie she bought xem, watching the latest Operation: Inconceivable movie with a group of human teenagers. It's the latest film franchise craze, this one about a salarian Spectre and his team of experts. It's far more based in stealth and espionage than the old Blasto series, and it's taken off in popularity lately.  
  
A different screen grabs Samus's attention. A familiar face just popped up on Citadel Network News; she tunes her omni-tool to the screen to turn up the volume.  
  
"--crowds turned out this morning in the Presidium to witness the inauguration of the new Councillor for the Turian Empire, Jeriko Noxus. Councillor Noxus was a decorated officer in Starfleet before retiring from active duty to serve a more diplomatic role as ambassador for the Empire three years ago, under the late Councillor Darxill. Noxus was chosen as Turian Councillor in a general election by the entire Empire, winning by a landslide."  
  
"Huh," says Samus thoughtfully, turning down the volume again as the story shifts to something about a new performance at the Dilinaga Concert Hall. "Never thought I'd see him go into politics."  
  
"You know Jeriko Noxus?" says Kiriki, turning away from xeir movie.  
  
"He was captain of the ship I served on in Starfleet. He's a good captain, we all loved him, but he's one of those 'fast and loose with accepted strategy' types. Not always popular with High Command, you know. Probably because they know he's smarter than them."  
  
"That's good for Councillor, yes?"   
  
"Well, yes, I mean, I'm sure he'll be great at it. I just never really expected him to leave space. He loved that ship. It just kind of … makes me wonder. Damn, I hope he's okay. I owe him."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Her mandibles flare as she considers how to say it. "I've been on parole for about a year now, and apparently he lobbied hard to give me that chance. Spirits, if it wasn't for him I might have faced way worse than outsourced military prison. Maybe he felt guilty, I don't know."  
  
"You were in prison?" Xe sounds more in awe than anything else, and that makes her smile a little.  
  
"Yeah. For five years. It's a long story. Let's just say… doesn't matter how old or how widespread our civilization is, there will always be assholes who think they can just take whatever they want, that power doesn't come with responsibility. I fought back against one of them, and I faced the consequences." She shrugs. "But it's over now. If my parole officer keeps giving me good reports, I'll be free and clear in two more years."  
  
"Will this be a good report?"  
  
Samus hesitates. "I … really hope so. I haven't done anything technically illegal… I think."  
  
"Samus Aran?" says a new, feminine voice. Samus turns to see a young asari, still in her Maidenhood, wearing one of the primary coloured Chances uniforms and the plastic smile of a secretary. Her iridescent azure skin is accented by cyan facial markings in a pattern Samus has never seen before and dark violet lipstick. She's quite beautiful.  
  
Samus gets to her feet and motions to Kiriki to follow her. "That's me. This is Kiriki."  
  
The asari's smile doesn't change. "Mr. Fate will see you now. Please follow me."  
  
They follow her to an elevator marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, and it scans her when she presses the call button. After a minute, the doors open and the three of them enter.  
  
Kiriki stays quiet and as close to Samus as xe can without touching. She looks down at the kid, who glances back nervously, and she pats xem on the shoulder comfortingly. The asari takes note, and the plastic smile turns much more genuine. "Your name is Kiriki?" she says gently.  
  
"Kiriki nar Legion," says Kiriki, rubbing xeir arm shyly.  
  
"You don't have a clan name?"  
  
Kiriki shakes xeir head. "Geth don't have clans. Raised geth, in Legion Spire."  
  
"You've never seen many aliens, have you?"   
  
Xe shakes xeir head again. "Consensus has memories, but isn't the same as seeing real people. You're first asari I've met, ever."  
  
Samus's mandibles flare a little as the epiphany hits. The kid's just shy around the pretty girl. That's _adorable._  
  
"You're the first hybrid I've ever met," says the asari. "My name is Artemis."  
  
"Artemis?" repeats Samus. "I know that name…"  
  
"You might be thinking of another Artemis," says the asari a little too quickly. The elevator dings as it reaches its destination, and she lets out a little sigh of relief that doesn't escape Samus. There's only one asari named Artemis the turian's ever heard of, and she's positive this asari is exactly that one.  
  
Artemis leads them from the elevator and down a short hallway, standing aside to let them through the doors that slide open with a soft _fwssh._  
  
Mr. Fate's office is a large, half-circular room, lit mostly by the panoramic floor-to-ceiling window covering the curved wall on the far side from the elevator, looking out over the main casino floor below. Near the window wall, there's a large crescent-shaped desk with a high-backed chair within the curve. The chair is currently turned away from them, but Samus can just barely make out the brim of a wide hat poking out around the edge of the chair back. Kiriki is walking behind her slightly, as if xe is using her as a shield between xem and this new person. She glances back at the kid and gives xem a reassuring smile--or she hopes xe finds it reassuring, anyway, aliens can have difficulty with turian expressions. She only realizes then, however, that Artemis has disappeared into the shadows of the office.  
  
The man in the chair lets the silence hang for a minute. Then another minute. Finally Samus gets frustrated enough at his dramatic atmosphere to speak up. "Watcher 21?"  
  
He finally turns around in his chair, and the face that greets them is the one she remembers from the comm calls. They've never met in person. He's not a very tall human, but he's slender, even lanky, with high cheekbones and a strong nose. His skin is light brown, slightly reddish, and his dark brown, almost black, hair and beard complement it well. His eyes are somewhat obscured by the wide brim of his hat, but they're impossible to miss even so--glowing cyan, nearly solid if not for the occasional ripples of light patterns that reveal the cybernetic workings of the augments. She's not sure if his eyes have been completely replaced or simply augmented, but the effect is that she can never be too sure what he's looking at--or what he's seeing. If he wanted to have an unnerving stare, he definitely succeeded.  
  
At least he still blinks.  
  
"Y'all can call me Mr. Fate too, if you like it better," he says with a cheery smile, sitting back in his chair. "Good t' finally meet y’ in person, Samus Aran."  
  
She nods, inclining her body a little with her head. "Pleasure's all mine, Mr. Fate. This is Kiriki nar Legion, the hybrid I told you about."  
  
Kiriki steps forward and pulls xeir hood back a little to give Fate a better look at the asymmetrical visor plate and the large geth eye. Fate laces his fingers together thoughtfully. "Well ain't you somethin’," he says quietly. "What were you doin' in a Reaper corpse, partner?"  
  
"Am on Pilgrimage," Kiriki explains, twisting xeir fingers together nervously. "Left Rannoch in geth shuttle, wanted to go to human space. See Earth!"  
  
"Why Earth?" asks Fate.  
  
"Normandy museum!" chirps Kiriki, nervousness overridden by enthusiasm. "Legion, Tali'Zorah, Shepard-Commander, very important to geth history. Wanted to see place where peace began. But didn't get there. Shuttle was damaged, pretty bad, went to closest planet to get repaired--Khar'shan. While there, saw lights on the moon, got curious. Went up as soon as shuttle was fixed."  
  
Fate crosses his legs, leaning further back in his chair. It's a relaxed position, but something in the way his furrowed brow is slightly visible beneath his hat tells Samus something bothers him. "How'd your shuttle get damaged?"  
  
"Came out of FTL in bad place," says Kiriki. "Battle between ships. Big ones--Old Machines. Didn't notice us, didn't attack directly, just got caught in crossfire." Xe looks over at Samus uneasily. "Maybe one of Old Machines followed us?"  
  
"Don't blame yourself," says Samus, "you obviously weren't a target. The Reaper that attacked us was after the dead one. How many Reapers were fighting?"  
  
"Three. Green, red, blue lasers. Didn't stick around long. Was in Khar'shan system, though--Old Machine on moon maybe casualty?"  
  
"Sounds like it," mutters Fate. "I've heard of this battlin' between Reapers, but didn't think it was so close to us. Thought they were keepin' it between stars. D'ya have any info from the dead one, hunter?"  
  
"Kiriki downloaded quite a bit. It's okay, kid, we can trust this guy," Samus assures xem, to indicate xe should share the data.  
  
Kiriki goes up to the desk and hesitates. "Um--do you have uplink node or--"  
  
"Here, partner," says Fate. He presses a button on his desk and a glowing square opens up on it. "Geth hands, right? Do what y’all do."  
  
Kiriki places both hands on the square. Samus's mandibles flare from surprise and suspicion. "How do you have a geth uplink node in your desk already?" she asks.  
  
"I do business with geth from time to time," says Fate casually. "We got all kinds in the Net." He opens up a holoscreen to look at the data as Kiriki uploads it. "Interestin'… trackin' the rebuildin' of the batarians. Looks like it was on that moon for decades. You're right, hunter, this is weirder than two weasles in a wifflepot."  
  
"I have no idea what either of those things are," says Samus.  
  
"What's this--Last Chance?" His eyes narrow as he reads the screen. "Damn. _Damn._  Y’all actually got coordinates from that thing."  
  
"Had to!" says Kiriki, finally removing xeir hands. "Needs our help. Will wake up alone, maybe not knowing who it is, yes? Needs us."  
  
Fate smiles at xem. "Y’all found yourself a good kid here, hunter. Now, kid… how much of you is geth 'n how much is quarian? Includin' your brain."  
  
"All geth, all quarian," says Kiriki. "All Kiriki."  
  
"I mean in percentages."  
  
"All geth, all quarian," xe repeats, "all Kiriki."  
  
Fate's cybernetic eyes meet Kiriki's, and the silent struggle of wills is apparent to Samus--and Varia, seeing through the eyes of her partner. Samus clicks her mandibles. "I don't think it's as simple as a 60/40 split, Fate," she says.  
  
"Guess not," mutters Fate. "What about the Consensus, then?"  
  
"Raised in Consensus," says Kiriki, "connected to it. Consensus is family, clan… Different, being away, not in it anymore. Can talk to them, but not the same, yes? Like calling home."  
  
"So you're still an individual." Kiriki nods. Fate taps his fingertips together. "How'd y’ become, ah… you?"  
  
"Born quarian. Parents were exploring, mapping new places on Rannoch to settle," says Kiriki. Samus notes a certain practiced resignation to xeir voice; this isn't the first time xe's had to tell the story, not by a long shot. "But, there was accident. Expedition died, except me and geth explorers. They fixed me, raised me."  
  
"Fixed you? Y’all mean cybernetic replacements. How old were you?"  
  
"Very small," says Kiriki. "Grew up in Legion Spire, in Rayya City."  
  
Fate sits back in his chair, thinking. His face is inscrutable--a poker face, humans call it. "Seems there's no real way to know how the hybridization really worked without a more, ahm, in-depth look," he says thoughtfully, almost more to himself than to them.  
  
"No way," says Samus, a protective talon coming over to grasp Kiriki's shoulder.   
  
"Calm down, hunter, that ain't what I was gettin' at. I gotta call the boss before anything else, first off. Tell y’all what, you two--er, three stay the next day here in Chances, on the house. I'll report to the boss, and we'll have a new job for ya within the next twenty-four hours or so. An' I'll have your payment sent to your account lickety-split, hunter."  
  
"What about the 'bonus'?" she asks. "The deal we made."  
  
"Like I said, I gotta call the boss," he says. "Lady, do we have an open two-bedroom suite?"  
  
A colourful holographic image of a curvaceous human woman in a tight jumpsuit and a visor covering most of her face suddenly appears beside him. "We do indeed," she says. A synthesized voice--she's the controlling intelligence for Chances.   
  
"May I introduce Lady Luck," says Fate with a smile, "my better half."  
  
Samus's mandibles click with surprise. "I didn't know you were partnered."  
  
"I guess turians don't do wedding bands, huh," he chuckles, holding up his hand to make the gold ring clear. "I'll talk t'ya shortly, hunter. Good to meet you, Kiriki nar Legion."  
  
Kiriki nods. "Same, Fate-Watcher." The mix of his names makes Fate chuckle.  
  
Lady Luck's holographic image leads them out of the room, chattering on about the amenities in their suite and the best times for the various clubs and restaurants. Just before the lift door closes, however, Samus hears another voice coming from Fate's office, slightly garbled by the voice masking programs.  
  
"This is the Shadow Broker."


	5. Paradigm Shift

Artemis presses her hand to the holographic lock on her cabin door. Chances has few enough permanent staff members that they all have small apartments on the station. They're simple studios, but they have functional kitchens and private bathrooms, and they allow the staff some normality of living no other ship could offer. The door opens with a soft _fwssh_ , and the lights turn on as soon as it does. The room is narrow, wide enough for the length of the bed built into the far end and no more. The walls are full of seams and pull-handles--doors to open, drawers to pull out, even more built-in furniture that she can fold out as needed. Economical use of space defines living on a ship, even when that ship is Chances.

She opens the refrigerator door--much smaller than a normal fridge but plenty big enough for her--and grabs an energy drink, setting her bag of workout gear aside. She hasn't neglected her biotic training, even working as Fate's apprentice Watcher. Supposedly, at least. Fate is not good at delegating work, and anything he doesn't do, the ship AI Lady Luck takes care of. Artemis has been bored out of her skull for months. Fortunately, it's given her time to keep up her training, and she hasn't been without her own amusements.

She settles on her bed and uses her omni-tool to bring up a game on the large entertainment screen built into the wall above her bed. _Galaxy of Fantasy_ is still one of the most popular games on the extranet after a century, and she has friends there. If she's lucky, one in particular will be on.

The game is only on for a short time when she gets the call. Audio only, as geth rarely see the point of face to face communication. "Artemis," comes the familiar synthesized voice when she accepts the call.

"Hey L," she says. "I was hoping you'd be on."

"I am always 'on,' Artemis," says L. A fellow member of the Shadow Net, and a close, albeit somewhat unusual friend. Unlike most geth, he chose a gender for himself. He's been a separate identity, connected to the Consensus but outside it, for decades now. Most geth individuals return to the Consensus every so often and then leave again. He's never returned.

"Well, there's something I want to talk to you about," she says. "I met a couple of people this morning--they were coming to see Watcher 21. L--you never told us about the hybrid."

There's a longer pause than can be attributed to extranet lag. "You never asked," says L finally.

"Well, I met xem this morning. Xe says xe's on Pilgrimage, and xe showed up here with a bounty hunter and Reaper info, and the Watcher's been making a lot of calls to the Broker since then."

Another pause. L is processing this. "Why is this the first I have heard of this?" he says. "No. Wait. You were about to say I did not ask." There's a string of low-volume, slightly staticky sounds that Artemis recognizes as the geth version of swearing. Oh shit.

"You didn't know xe'd left Rannoch," she realizes.

"At the time of my last intel xe was still not yet of age."

"So, what, you were waiting for Kiriki to be Pilgrimage age before filling the rest of us in? Because this is news to the Broker and she's going to be _pissed_  if she finds out you knew all along." She doesn't bother pretending the Broker is anything but female.

"Broker or not," says L defensively, "I am not in the habit of invading the privacy of _children_ , no matter how scientifically curious they may be. It was not yet relevant. When it became relevant, the Broker would have been informed."

"So what makes it relevant?"

"Knowing that xe survived long enough to reach Pilgrimage would have been a logical start."

"You need to phone home more often, L," she sighs. "Fate's never going to let you forget he scooped you."

"Fate should have called me first."

"You know how he is. Has to do everything himself. I'm bored out of my mind here."

"Still. Gross unprofessionalism. I would have extended him the courtesy were our positions reversed. I shall have to reevaluate the standards of our working relationship," he adds bitterly.

"Just remind him he didn't actually scoop you," says Artemis. "Samus Aran scooped you _both_. She and Varia are something else."

"Samus Aran?" A pause while he gathers information. "Chozo turian, was a member of Starfleet before her arrest, dishonourable discharge, and imprisonment. Partnered with the ship Varia."

"She's out now," says Artemis. "On parole and doing bounty work, mostly in the Terminus. Broker gave her a job."

"I take it she was the first to encounter Kiriki," concludes L. "That is marginally less aggravating."

"Right. Broker's testing her for something, I'm not sure what. Sent her into a dead Reaper, and that's where she found Kiriki. Apparently between the two--no, three--of them, they found some interesting shit in there."

"Intriguing," says L. "Perhaps I should request an in-depth report from Varia, if she is feeling obliging."

"I suggest you wait until the mission is totally done, L. I'm getting the impression this is some seriously sensitive stuff."

"Your advice has been noted, and will be followed. In the meantime I shall be 'phoning home,' as you say. And registering my frustrations with Fate."

They focus on the game for a while. "Did you ever meet the kid?" asks Artemis suddenly. "Kiriki, I mean."

"It has been some time since I returned to the homeworld," says L, "but yes, once. Traditional conversation is a rare enough commodity in the Spire. Curiosities are frequently drawn to one another, I am told."

"Well, we're friends, aren't we?" she teases.

"I have always believed so, yes."

"I--I think you missed my joke, there."

"Oh. I see your point."

"We are friends, L," she laughs. "You know, Kiriki kind of reminds me of you. Xe's got that same 'because it's there' kind of curiosity. Maybe that's a geth thing."

"I am not sure if that is more a compliment to xem or me," comments L.

"You're kind of xeir big brother. It's both." L goes quiet for a few minutes, to the point that the length of the silence is quite strange for a being that processes as fast as he does. "L?"

"I had never thought of it in those terms," L says finally. "Geth do not think in terms of 'family.' We are all geth. The only relationship we acknowledge as 'familial' is that of the Creators. Few enough beings are able to recognize those who gave us being."

"Aside from children and parents," she says. "That's how you see the quarians, as your parents?"

"It is more analogous than literal," admits L, "but it is the closest we have to the organic perception of family."

"What does that make Kiriki, then?" "A new life form," says L. "Our creation, but also a creation of our Creators. Both sibling and child, perhaps. This is why it is analogous," he adds when she starts laughing.

"I do so love being friends with you, L," says Artemis.

#

Kiriki, of course, is fascinated by Chances, but Samus got bored with the place rather quickly. She's never enjoyed resorts and other such "vacation spots." They just feel pointless. Every time Kiriki drags her to a new part of the station, she keeps mentally listing better things she could be doing with her time. It's barely even been a day, and she's ready to leave--but no, they have to wait for Mr. Fate and the Shadow Broker, and they're taking their sweet damn time. It makes her nervous.

She leans against the railing of the spiraled, multitiered shopping tower, where the centre is open so she can see straight down to the floor, even from the upper levels. There are stores here from all over Citadel space, mostly selling luxury goods or vacation necessities. Rodam Expeditions has an outlet here, and she at least had a nice chat with the agent, who let her test out some of the hunting rifles. He's an older turian who recently retired from the Empire military, and working for Rodam is his retirement. According to him, Rodam handles most of Chances's offshore expeditions and retreats. "Led a krannt of krogan on a hunt through a jungle once," he told her with a chuckle. "Their leader was a Reaping vet, gave me the highest compliment of my life."

"What was that?" she asked.

"Called me a 'Vakarian type,' for volunteering to run around a swamp with krogan," laughed the old soldier.

He did show some surprise when she first entered, however, on seeing her colony markings. Chozo turians like herself have a reputation in the Empire for being isolationist, particularly since the Reaping. They stay to their homeworld, Zebes, and few ever leave. Even the law that every turian must serve in the Empire's military for a minimum period has been waived for the Chozo, in exchange for their services in other ways--specifically, technology development. The greatest innovations and inventions in the Turian Empire for hundreds of years have all come from the Chozo. It is a fact Palaven rarely acknowledges.

Now, Samus is watching the myriad shoppers in the tower while she waits for Kiriki to stop examining every last game in the store's catalogue. That might take a while. She's about to go in the store and ask xem if xe's getting the entire fucking Consensus's opinion on every game, when her comm starts beeping with a call. Her comm is linked directly into her brain via neural implants, so when she answers, she doesn't need to use her omnitool.

"Samus Aran," she answers, still speaking aloud. It feels weird to speak internally to anyone but Varia.

"Aran, this is Officer Vi Sechts, from C-Sec," comes the female voice. Officer Sechts is in change of her parole, though Samus has never been clear on why a C-Sec detective is overseeing the parole of a Starfleet convict from a private prison. The whole situation turned into a complete tangled mess the moment her fist hit Ridley's smug stupid face.

"Is there a problem, Officer Sechts?"

"You tell me, Aran. We gave you permission to do bounty work as long as you kept all actions and activities legal--"

"Which I have."

"--uploaded your location regularly--"

"Which I've been doing."

"--and sent me regular reports on your work."

"Which you've called 'highly entertaining,' if I remember right."

"Well, yeah, they are," says Sechts, and then she coughs awkwardly. Samus knows Sechts well enough by now to know what that little cough means--her superior is in the room, listening. Shit. "But your recent report was, um, concerning. You were a lot scarcer on details than usual, and then the location uploads…"

"I know," sighs Samus, "but my client wants me to be discreet until we have results." She considers how much she can let Sechts in on. "There was a disturbance on Khar'shan's moon, and my client sent me to investigate. Some kind of seismic thing. It's an archaeology group, don't worry about it." It's not _quite_  a lie. The Shadow Net is as involved in archaeology as they are in everything else.

"So," says Sechts, "nothing about politicians at all? No weird favours?"

Samus's mandibles flare. Politicians? What… "Nothing I can think of. The closest I've gotten to politicians lately has been watching newscasts."

Sechts puts her on hold. Samus can just imagine the officer talking to her superior, the first and only quarian officer in C-Sec and a well-known hardass, a word that is the total antithesis of Sechts most of the time. Sechts claims to respect her, but they don't seem to get along much. "Well," says Sechts finally, "your parole is up."

"That can't be right. I still have two years at least."

"It's a Council order. You've been pardoned." 

_"What?"_

"Look, we didn't get any explanation either. That's why I gave you the third degree. You're officially pardoned, no criminal record whatsoever, and you don't have to report back to me anymore."

"I … I don't know what to say." Samus sounds as stunned as she feels. She searches her mind and Varia's for any reason the *Council* could possibly have to pardon them, and finds nothing. "Are we both pardoned?"

"What? Oh, right, your ship--yeah, you are. 'Samus and Varia Aran,' that's what this says here. I'll miss your reports, Aran, they were fun."

"I'll send you a postcard after an interesting job," says Samus.

Sechts laughs. "You know what? I'd like that. Good luck with your archaeology, Aran."

"Right, thanks, Officer." Sechts closes the channel, leaving Samus to stare into the shopping tower blankly. A Council pardon for what she did. This has to be the Broker's doing, there's no other option. But why? _What are you planning, Broker?_

"Samus-Aran!" Kiriki bounces up to her. "What are you thinking about?"

"I just got a call from my parole officer," says Samus. "I've been given a pardon from the Council. No more parole. No more criminal record. I'm completely free."

"That's good, right?" xe says, leaning on the railing next to her.

"It should be, but… I don't know. Something feels off about this… like I'm missing something."

"Excuse me," says a new, feminine voice. They both turn, and there's Artemis, in her Chances uniform and plastic smile. "Mr. Fate would like to meet with you both as soon as possible."

"Finally," grumbles Samus, pushing off the railing. "He could have called."

"Mr. Fate prefers to give a more personal touch to his business associates," says Artemis blandly. "Follow me, please."

There is no way, Samus decides as they follow after Artemis, that asari is just a secretary. Especially not with a station AI like Fate's Lady Luck. Bodyguard, maybe, but she wouldn't be sent to get them in that case--bodyguards don't leave their protectees' sides. Some kind of enforcer does seem likely, though; commandos are hard to tell apart from any other asari when they're not in armor. Then again, she's heard of only one asari named _Artemis_.

 _Artemis is a goddess from human mythology,_  Varia tells her. _Goddess of the hunt and women._

_Appropriate for an asari huntress._

_Or an asari naming her daughter after a human huntress._

If it's true, it raises a lot of questions about what her true purpose within Chances really is.

Mr. Fate is turned to face them when they enter this time, looking over a miniature galaxy map projecting from his desk. "Hunters," he greets them, "good t' see y'all again."

"Hunters," repeats Kiriki to xemself.

"Fate," says Samus, "I just got a call from my parole officer--I've been pardoned."

"Well, congratulations."

"And you have nothing at all to do with this?"

"Not that I know of," he says with a smile. "I've been workin' here on these fascinatin' coordinates. Maybe y' got a friend on the Council."

Samus snorts derisively. Artemis moves to fade back into the shadows of the office, but Fate stops her with a gesture. "Now hold on there, Arty. This concerns you, too."

Artemis is obviously surprised, but she returns to the pool of light where Samus and Kiriki stand. Kiriki gives her a little wave and she smiles at xem.

"The coordinates y'all got from the Reaper," starts Mr. Fate, "this Last Chance o' yours--it's on Tuchanka."

"Tuchanka?" repeats Samus. "Where?"

"The Shroud ruins," says Mr. Fate. "Or thereabouts. Once y'all are there I expect you can narrow it down. See, Broker wants the _four_  of y'all to go to Tuchanka and find this Last Chance. If it can be reasoned with, contact me and I can put y'all in direct touch with the Broker. If it can't…"

"I understand, Watcher," says Samus. She looks to Artemis, then back to Fate. "By 'four of us,' I take it you mean Artemis, as well."

"Right in one, Hunter. Arty, I know you've been itchin' t' get off this station for months. Here's your chance."

Artemis nods. "Thank you for the chance, sir."

"Anything made by Reapers, especially if it still has a Reaper intelligence, is going to have an indoctrination field," points out Samus. "You're not partnered, are you, Artemis?"

"No," she says, "but I am innoculated."

"There's no such thing." The asari winks at her. "Trust me, 'Hunter,'" mimicking Fate's accent, "I'll be fine. I have experience with Reapers. I have training in close combat and both offensive and defensive biotics, and some knowledge in synthetic repair and maintenance. I'm sure we can get along."

"What kind of 'experience with Reapers' are we talking about?"

Fate clears his throat before Artemis can answer. "This here is a test for all y'all. Broker wants people who can deal with unusual situations like this, as a team. If y'all can deal with this Last Chance, preferably without killin' each other, we're prepared to make a more permanent contract."

"We can do it," says Kiriki. The two women look down at xem--xe's been quiet this whole time. Kiriki, shorter than both of them, looks back up, and even with the faceplate they can tell xe's grinning. "Who better for Reapers than Shepard-team?"

"Shepard," repeats Samus, wheeling on Artemis. She's right.

"Yes," says Artemis, letting out a long sigh through her nose. "My full name is Artemis Shepard, because my father was Diana Shepard. _The_  Diana Shepard."

"Shit," says Samus.


	6. En Route

Kiriki returns to Varia, Samus's list of orders finally completed, at the same time Artemis Shepard arrives at the ship. Samus is standing in front of the docking port, signing a release form for the box of levo-protein food pods she'd ordered. The delivery mech makes a happy beep and opens up the top of its cylindrical body like a lid for her to take the box out.

"Thanks, little guy," she says, and the mech whistles cheerfully at her before closing up and wheeling off to make its next delivery.

Artemis has ditched her primary-coloured Chances uniform for a much more fashionable--and flattering--street outfit of a knit top, denim leggings, a cropped leather jacket, and knee-high armored boots not unlike the kind Samus wears, but fit for an asari's feet instead of a turian's talons. She has a shoulder bag with her, but no luggage--it must have been delivered already. Dark and jewel tones flatter her iridescent azure skin far more than the bright uniform did. She's tall, slender, stylish, shimmering … Kiriki feels more out of place beside her than anywhere else on the station.

And on top of all of that, she's a _Shepard_. Xe's a little awe-struck.

"Kiriki!" she greets xem first, settling back against the glass railing keeping pedestrians from touching the viewport glass. From here, they can see Varia. "Over here!"

Kiriki leans against the railing beside her, focusing on Varia to keep xeir thoughts from wandering too much. "Ready to go, Artemis-Shepard?"

"Please--just Artemis. I'm not my dad."

"I'm not Legion," says Kiriki. "Still have the name, because Legion Spire. You're not Commander, but still Shepard."

She rubs the back of her neck uncomfortably. "I guess. I just hate getting the 'hero's daughter' treatment, that's all."

"Want to define yourself for yourself, yes?"

"That's one way to put it. Guess you're kind of in the same boat, huh," she adds, the realization hitting. "We've all been talking _about_  you, but not really talking _to_  you."

"Yes," says Kiriki rather flatly.

"I'm sorry." She sounds like she means it.

Kiriki pats her arm in an attempt at reassurance. "Used to it, don't worry. Knew I would be 'news,' sooner or later. Hoped it wouldn't be _so_  soon, but," xe shrugs, "Reapers happened."

That makes her laugh.

"Hey, you two." Samus has found them. "Everything's on the ship. Including your gear, Artemis. Have to say, I was expecting more than one footlocker."

"What, you thought I'd bring a ton of luggage or something?" asks Artemis. "Is that a crack at me being an asari?"

"What? No. You've lived on this station for a few months now, that's all."

"It's not like I cleaned out my apartment. We'll be returning to Chances when the mission is over. I brought what I needed."

Samus's mandibles click, but she nods. "So we're operating under the idea that this is a probationary thing. Not permanent."

"Not yet, at least. Is there a problem?"

"One, maybe. Come on, I'll give you the tour. And then we can talk. We have to jump two relays to Tuchanka. We have time."

#

  
By the time Varia has completed giving Artemis the tour of the ship, they're already in motion. Kiriki has taken off xeir hood and mask, revealing the extensive cybernetics across xeir face and cerebral tendrils. Xe's making xemself a drink at the food synthesizer, some blue milkshake-like thing that had been xeir only request when Samus was ordering supplies.

"Wow," says Artemis, sitting down at the central table. "I saw the eye, but… somehow I thought the cybernetics would be mostly internal."

Kiriki sits across from her with xeir drink. "All limbs replaced. Most internal organs are organic, but have synthetic reinforcement or augment. Bone, skin, muscle weave. Brain is augmented."

"So there's really no part of your body that's been untouched." Xe nods, slurping the drink though a straw. Artemis leans her head on her hand. "You said you were in an accident, and the geth rebuilt you. Were you still alive?" Another nod. "It's just that … your body reminds me of what my dad went through. I've seen schematics, medical holos, tests… Every part of her had synthetic augmentation somehow."

"Consensus based work on me, on knowledge of Shepard," says Kiriki after a moment's pause. "Owe my survival to her, in that way."

"I can't go anywhere without being reminded of my dad," says Artemis. She sounds more bitter than she means to.

"You never knew her, yes? Born after her death at the Crucible."

"That's--more complicated than it seems. I never knew the woman in the vids, anyway."

Kiriki's curiosity is piqued, but xe doesn't get a chance to ask further, as Samus takes a seat at the end of the table. Varia appears at the other end. "All right," says Samus, "we're in hyperspace. Let's talk."

"You seem concerned, Samus," says Artemis.

"You said back in the Watcher's office that you are 'innoculated' against indoctrination. There's no such thing."

"How does innoculation work, Samus? You're exposed to the virus in a dormant state, so your body recognizes it and can repel it. Essentially, you don't catch the virus because you _already have it._ So it is with me."

Samus's mandibles open with her shock. "You're a Reaper agent."

"Not an agent, exactly. I grew up on a Reaper. It shaped my psyche--the others can't affect me now."

"And you just expect us to accept this and trust you?"

"No," says Artemis, "but I'm _asking_  you to give me a chance. Let me earn your trust. Probation, right?"

Samus's mandibles click irritably. Varia, however, taps her holographic talons together thoughtfully. "That's why the Broker wants you on this mission," she says. "Is the Shadow Broker your Reaper?"

Artemis blinks. "No--not the Broker. But--close. Damn."

"You were assigned to us by the Broker's specific, personal request. A Reaper would take great interest in the matter of its own kind killing each other--especially when one of its own has set up failsafes to preserve itself. An agent of that Reaper, assigned by the Broker… I assume this is also a test of our ability to be discrete in this."

"It is now. I don't think they expected you to be so concerned about indoctrination," admits Artemis.

Samus snorts. "One day people will learn to stop underestimating us."

#

Kiriki and Artemis spend the rest of the trip to Tuchanka playing a fighting game over their omnitools. Kiriki attempted to explain the game to Samus--"Mechapunch! Press A to punch and B to dodge and X to superpunch and A A X to double superpunch and"--but she excused herself after the third combo and hid up in the cockpit.

_I'm glad there's more than one sleeping pod now,_  says Varia once Samus has settled into the pilot seat. _We're gaining a crew of our own._

_It's just for this mission,_  Samus tells her.

_The Watcher himself called it probationary. They want us to be a team._

_Be nice if he asked. I'll put up with it for this mission, but I won't just do whatever he says. I don't care how much he's paying._

_I like the idea of having a team again, Samus._

Samus falls silent, even though on the next level of her mind her thoughts are in turmoil. She and Varia have been a unit since she was an adolescent. They've been together her entire adult life; she's almost never been truly lonely. Yet--she likes the idea of having a team again, too. Both of them, part of something more.

She'd given up on that the moment her fist hit Ridley's face. No--before that. She gave up on being part of "something more" when she woke up in a haze, and the chilling realization sank slowly in. When she learned that people like him, people who just _took_  with no respect or consideration for anyone else, for whom the term _people_  was generous and diplomatic--people like him still existed. She gave up on _more_  when she gave up on idealism.

She thought Varia had, too.

When they--finally--arrive in Tuchanka's orbit, Varia handles communication with the border satellite VI, who monitors traffic on and off the planet. She does this with every station and planet; Samus rarely has to get involved herself. The ship is small enough that it can land nearly everywhere, like a transport shuttle. They should be able to just go straight to the Shroud ruins.

Should.

_Samus, I need you to take over. This is more complex than we anticipated._

Samus pulls up the comm screen. "This is Samus Aran, captain of ISV 1-1986 Varia."

"Captain," says the krogan on the other side--a male, and not that old. His headplate hasn't completely fused yet. They have interns running the traffic comms. Of course they do. "I understand from your pilot you want to land at the Shroud ruins? You need proper security clearance."

"Security clearance? It's a bunch of carved rocks."

"The 'Shroud' is built in the ancient Temple of Kalross, mother of all thresher maws," says the intern in a practiced monotone just shy of being sarcasm, "and it's designated as a Historical-slash-Cultural Site under category eleven-point-five, and also a High-Risk Wildlife Site under category one-point-four-seven. Thresher maw territory."

Krogan bureaucracy. Fuck.

Samus lets out a long sigh through her nose. "How can I get proper clearance?"

"A clan leader, shamans of Bone rank or higher, or a high ranking military official can give clearance," says the intern, the monotone not wavering but sliding a little more into sarcasm territory. "All clan leaders have audience waiting lists of--"

"I get the picture," Samus interrupts him. "Fine. Can I get docking clearance in All-Clan City?"

"Transferring you to All-Clan City docking VI," says the intern. "Have a nice visit to Tuchanka."

_I'll take it from here,_  Varia tells her, and Samus climbs from the pilot pod to hop down through the hole to the other two.

"Whoever introduced the krogan to bureaucracy needs to be shot," she says as soon as her talons hit the bottom. Artemis bursts out laughing.

"I don't understand?" says Kiriki, looking between them.

"They view it as another form of warfare," Artemis explains, "fought with paperwork in triplicate and frustration instead of guns. What happened?"

"Apparently I need extra security clearance to get us to the Shroud ruins," sighs Samus as she sits at the table. "Clearance I can only get from a clan leader or high official. I'll call the Watcher, maybe he can pull some strings and--"

"Actually," Artemis interrupts, "I have a contact here who might be able to help. Let's try her, first. She lives in All-Clan City, I'll call ahead."

She starts tapping into her omnitool. Samus laces her talons together, mandibles clicking with both annoyance and consideration. "Who is this contact of yours?"

"Old friend. We grew up together, I was in her Rite of Passage krannt and everything. She and her brothers are part of the New Brood--you know, the first krogan born after the genophage cure? So we're about the same age."

"How does she have the kind of pull we need?"

"Please, Mordin can get _anything_  from her dad. We just need to explain the situation." She holds up a finger to hush them as her omnicomm beeps. "Hey Mord! It's Artemis, are you free?"

Kiriki leans in and whispers to Samus as Artemis talks, "Urdnot Mordin, only daughter of Urdnot Wrex. Leader of Clan Urdnot. War hero."

"You think that's the same Mordin?" Samus whispers back.

Kiriki nods. "Urdnot Wrex and Liara T'soni, known to be close friends, children grow up together? Definitely."

She watches Artemis, who has her omnitool up by her face so only she can hear Mordin on the other end, and her mandibles click again. _What is the Broker getting us into?_  



	7. All-Clan City

Even after a century's worth of rebuilding, Tuchanka is still primarily a desolate wasteland. Restoring the planet will take thousands of years, and it will never be what it once was. However, as Urdnot Wrex proclaimed in the now-famous speech he gave decades ago when All-Clan City was first named, this is time the krogan now have. The ability to have future generations has been all the motivation the krogan need to give those generations a planet worth inheriting.

Not that it has been a century of pure harmony. Conflict is the krogan way, after all; challenge is in their nature. Without Reapers to fight, and with the renewed ability to breed, more than a few clans decided it time to attack a weakened Palaven and take vengeance on the turians who had defeated them so long ago.

They were subsequently crushed by Clan Urdnot and the considerably more numerous clans that allied with it.

The message was clear: there was a greater enemy to fight. Tuchanka itself. The confederacy that had formed in the Reapings held fast when they returned to the homeworld. Many clans have their own settlements now, of varying sizes, and all are welcome to the krogan's greatest project, All-Clan City. Here, the ancient grudges between clans must be cast aside, so that the future of all clans is protected. Weapons are forbidden.

Samus blinks a few times in the bright sunlight as her eyes adjust. All-Clan City is built on ruins of a great krogan city of ages past, and much of it looks far older than a few mere decades. Most buildings are less than five stories tall, and very few are close to ten, all made with sturdy construction of stone and concrete. There aren't nearly as many plastic prefabs as she was expecting.

"Somehow when I pictured this place," she says, "I was expecting it to be more brown."

"You've never been here?" says Artemis, looking back at her. The asari is leading the way to the tram station near the spaceport.

"No, I haven't. I've landed on Tuchanka before, but that was near one of the smaller clan settlements. Back in my Starfleet days."

"Huh. I got the impression you've been all over the place, from the files on you."

"Space is big," says Samus casually. "One person can't see all of it."

"'Space is big'," Artemis quotes her, laughing. "One day when they make a vid of the Legendary Bounty Hunter, Samus Aran, that'll be the tagline."

Samus doesn't give her the dignity of a response. Kiriki is looking around so fast the poor kid's head might swivel right off. Finally, xe looks up at her, nearly bouncing with excitement. "We get to take a train!"

The tram screeches to a halt at the station. Kiriki's actually right--it's a train, of all things. She was expecting a monorail mag-lift tram, but this damn thing has wheels. The doors slide open and a rather gruff recorded voice shouts "NOW ARRIVING: SPACEPORT STATION."

Artemis leads them inside along with a group of salarian tourists talking excitedly about the upcoming opera they're going to. The train car is mostly full of krogan, apart from the salarian opera fans and Samus's own little group. Samus wraps her talons around a pole next to a female krogan sitting with her young. She has a clutch of four, just old enough to start getting into all kinds of trouble. Two of them are practicing headbutting, while the other two have climbed up on their mother's hump to watch out the window. The mother, to her credit, seems completely undisturbed by her little riders, and her conversation over omni-tool hasn't been interrupted.

Kiriki isn't prepared for the sudden momentum shift when the train lurches forward--"NEXT STOP: GATATOG STATION"--and falls against Samus. She guides xeir hand to the pole to help xem keep xeir balance.

"This is so old!" Kiriki says once xe rights xeirself. "You saw the wheels? Tracks? Wires over? Still works! Amazing," xe breathes in awe.

The mother krogan chuckles to herself. The omni-tool conversation is over, it seems. Her riders look over to see what she's chuckling about, and they see Samus and Kiriki.

"Look, Mama, a turian!"

"Is he a soldier, Mama?"

"Is that a geth with him, Mama?"

"That's a woman, Ula," the mother says, "and her friend is a quarian."

Now all four children are fascinated. Samus shifts on her talons uncertainly. They're cute, but she has so little experience with kids--and if Kiriki says the word "hybrid" that might cause problems they don't have time for.

"NOW ARRIVING: GATATOG STATION."

The mother gets up. "Let's go, kids."

"But I want to talk to the quarian!" whines one.

"Don't you want dinner, Ula?"

Dinner is apparently more important than exotic alien visitors. Convinced, Ula follows her mother and sisters off the train. Artemis waits until the door closes behind them to burst out laughing.

"NEXT STOP: URDNOT STATION."

"They were so _adorable!"_  says Artemis, leaning against the pole she's grasping. "Oh my Goddess!"

"Yeah, kids are cute," sighs Samus.

"Clutches aren't bigger?" asks Kiriki curiously. "Female krogan can produce hundreds of eggs per clutch, yes?"

"Well, there's a difference between how many eggs are laid and how many babies result," Artemis explains, "but it turns out the genophage cure had some unexpected side effects. Clutches are a lot smaller. Three or four kids in a clutch is pretty common, actually."

"There are laws about how many clutches a family can have, right?" says Samus. "I remember hearing about it in Starfleet."

"Right. You do the Rite of Parentage to have a clutch. First time is free, and then there's increasing fees with each clutch afterwards. The fee is based mostly on the father, so you don't have creepy guys trying to make harems to get around it."

"Do people actually try that?"

"They did until they had to pay for it."

Samus chuckles. She watches the city fly by through the train windows. A hundred years before, this was rubble. The krogan are capable of amazing things when they put themselves to it. Maybe that's what the salarians saw in them, so long ago.

"Samus," says Artemis, "do you have family? Besides Varia, I mean."

"I don't know my birth parents," says Samus, "but I had two fathers. Griseus Vox and Veteris Aran."

"Griseus Vox? I've heard that name."

"Yeah… that whole business with Zebes and pirates. I was a little kid at the time. According to Dad… Veteris, he and Griseus found me as a hatchling in an escape pod, adrift from a destroyed freighter. Guess my parents were traders or smugglers or something. They took me in, raised me. I grew up on Zebes. Dad's still there."

"What happened to other dad?" asks Kiriki.

Samus's mandibles click while she considers the answer. "He's dead," she says finally. "Died when a pirate crew attacked the colony. They wanted Chozo tech."

"Condolences," says Kiriki sadly.

"It was a long time ago." She rests her forehead on the pole. "Dad remarried while I was in prison. I met Tyrius while they were still dating, he's a good guy. Couple of cute old birds. Still wish I could have made it to the ceremony, but…"

"NOW ARRIVING: URDNOT STATION."

"This is our stop!" chirps Artemis, thankfully drawing Samus from her thoughts. She and Kiriki follow the asari off the train into the station.

The station is busy, full of krogan on their way to or from the train, but over the din of voices (and the occasional unmistakeable sound of headplates colliding), Samus hears a varren barking. Suddenly, a large, bright red varren charges through the crowd and tackles Artemis to the ground. The turian's talons glow blue with biotics, ready for a fight--until she realizes Artemis is laughing.

"Okay, okay, I missed you too, buddy!" She's scratching the varren's head, laughing as it licks her face excitedly.

"Urf!" barks a voice. Low and husky, but female. "Heel!" The varren springs up and runs back to its owner. Samus's gaze follows its path, her biotic glow fading, to the young krogan watching them, her arms crossed, smirking. The krogan is old enough that most of her headplate has solidified, leaving only a few streaks of rocky scales separate at the edges. Her skin is yellow-orange, her headplate is dark red, and her eyes are bright gold. She doesn't have much of a hump yet, though it's harder to tell on females--male humps rise over the neck, but females' grow down the back.

Artemis hops to her feet excitedly. "Mordin! Glad you could come!"

The krogan headbutts the asari--gently--and then hugs her. "Yeah, well, Urf's missed you. These the friends you told me about?"

"Right--Samus Aran, Kiriki nar Legion, meet Urdnot Mordin."

Mordin sizes them up. "So, judging from your call, we should talk in private."

"As soon as possible," adds Samus.

"Home's this way, come on." She waves at them and leads them through the stone and concrete streets, Urf trotting along happily.

Home, it turns out, is the largest structure in the neighbourhood. It looks like three floors of large stone boxes stacked on top of each other, and the Urdnot banner covers as much surface area as they were able to fit. Kiriki is practically bouncing with excitement; xe must be sending as many images as xe can to the Consensus, Samus realizes.

"Dad!" yells Mordin. "Artemis is here!"

They hear Urdnot Wrex before they see him. His heavy footsteps echo down the stone halls, faster and faster, and then he turns a corner, sees them, and charges. He knocks Artemis right off her feet, throws her in the air, and hugs her. A giant, scarred, old dreadnought of a man, his name invoked by some krogan the way asari refer to the Goddess, and Samus Aran is standing in his _house_. With his _daughter_.

 _Maybe we should have expected this when the mission had the word 'Reaper' in it,_  Varia privately comments rather dryly.

_You mean we should have known it would be way over our heads?_

"How's my favourite niece?" he says, rubbing Artemis's head affectionately.

"I missed you too, Uncle Wrex," she giggles. "Listen--we need to talk. It's about Reapers on Tuchanka."

Wrex looks over at Samus and Kiriki. The former is guarded; the latter is awestruck.

"Better start from the beginning," he says.

#

"You realize," says Wrex, "that if you do find this 'Last Chance' thing and wake it up, it might not be friendly."

"It's a gamble," says Samus, "but one the Shadow Broker thinks is worth the risk. This Reaper was unusual, maybe unique. If we have the opportunity to learn more about that uniqueness, the Broker wants us to take it."

"Do you know why?" The way he says it, he sounds like he's challenging her.

"I don't think anyone besides the Broker herself knows her real motives, but I can think of a few reasons on my own. It wasn't just unique because it was studying the batarians' rebuilding; it was unique because another Reaper wanted it dead. Maybe more than one. The implications are more important than the actions. The Reapers didn't go back to Dark Space, they're still here, but they're not harvesting us anymore. We don't know what they're up to, or why it involves killing each other. Last Chance might be _our_  Last Chance to learn anything about the Reapers now, and if we don't take it? We won't even see the next Reaping coming. Or worse."

Wrex's red eyes narrow, but she doesn't waver in her gaze. He reminds her of old Captain Noxus, and the way he could make a yahg wither with a single look. That same presence, that same sense of command. Noxus didn't intimidate her. Neither will Wrex.

Suddenly, the old krogan bursts out laughing. "That's something I haven't seen in a long time…"

"What is?" Artemis interrupts him.

"I see why you like her, Art. She's got the same fire in her eyes your dad did." He nods approvingly at Samus. "All right, Aran, you have your access. Just be careful out there. Can't always count on Kalross to kill a Reaper for you."

"Dad, I'm going with them," says Mordin. "I know the territory out there better than anyone else here, and they'll need someone who does. Besides--I want to see this thing for myself."

"Are you sure about that, girl? This will be dangerous, Reapers or no Reapers."

"I can do it, Dad. You know I can. Who killed a thresher maw at her Rite of Passage?"

"We did!" volunteers Artemis.

"I'm _your_ daughter."

Wrex sighs. "Shit." He points at Samus. "You be _sure_  to bring my little girl back safe, got that?"

Samus's mandibles click as she swallows a laugh; Kiriki is not quite so subtle. Covering xeir helmet with xeir hands does nothing to muffle xeir giggles. "Sir," she says solemnly, "on my honour as a Chozo turian, she won't even have to blood rage."


	8. In the Maw of Tuchanka

And that's how the ex-convict pair Samus and Varia Aran found themselves skimming over the ruins of Tuchanka with a geth-quarian hybrid and the daughters of two legends in tow, looking for the remnant of a monster from deep space that had terrorized the galaxy one hundred years (Citadel standard) before, in the hopes that it might not immediately attempt to vaporize them, because the mysterious leader of the biggest and most powerful intelligence network in the galaxy told them to.

_Maybe it's a good thing we don't have to send reports anymore,_  sighs Samus to Varia, sitting in the pilot pod and watching the ruins fly by through the viewscreen. _Not sure how I'd ever explain this shit to Sechts._

The collapsed Shroud tower comes into view in the distance. Fortunately, there's no sign of any Reapers or giant thresher maws. The ruins are quiet. While Varia maneuvers the ship into a good landing site, Samus slides down to address the team. Her team.

That does feel good to think about. Varia might have a point.

"Suit up," she says when her talons hit the deck floor.

"Way ahead of you," says Mordin. She's already changed into body armor in the new modular style; krogans were the last holdouts to change from the single-piece armor suit to modular. Mordin's is lighter than Samus is used to seeing on krogans, made more for handling environmental hazards than direct combat. The thickest plating is on her arms, her back hump, and her stomach; her joints are left almost completely unprotected. Then again, Samus notes as she straps on a series of pouches and tubes with various colours of gel and liquid running through them, the plating may not be the only source of protection.

"What are those?" asks Samus, indicating the pouches.

"Anti-toxin, acid scrubbers, medigel, coolant, painkillers, combat stims," Mordin explains, pointing to each of them in turn. "The last two are my own formula."

"Don't try taking the stims, they're made for krogan," adds Artemis. "You'll be hallucinating for a week."

"Hey, I _warned_  you," grumbles Mordin.

"What exactly do you do, Mordin?" Samus asks in an attempt to redirect the conversation to something more useful.

"I'm an expedition medic. I go out with the exploration crews and keep them alive. Most of Tuchanka is still wild, even uninhabitable. We go out and see what's worth taking back. You have to be prepared for anything when you do that. Sometimes we even find pockets of Reapazoids left after the Reaping. They go dormant without anything telling them what to do, I guess, but if you just stumble across them they'll attack anyway."

"You actually have experience fighting those things?"

"Not a lot of it, but it's something. Urf here once tore a brute's head clean off, isn't that right, Urfy?" She rubs the varren's head affectionately and it growls affectionately back. "Point is, that's why I work on making new painkillers and stims and things like that. The chemsuit here is also my own invention, for fast and easy injection. It'll keep me alive through just about anything, and then I can keep you alive. For everything else, there's Barda."

"Barda?"

Mordin hefts a large gun. It's about the right shape to be a shotgun, but there's a bladed chainsaw attached like a bayonet, and the muzzle is bigger than Samus has ever seen on a shotgun. "This," says Mordin, "is Big Barda. She fires flechettes the size of your head, the muzzle can be extended or shortened for range, and as a last resort…" She fires up the chainsaw. "Specially modified to rip and tear flesh. Barda here eats thresher maws for breakfast."

Samus is rather speechless. Kiriki's eye has switched from its usual blue-white glow to a bright orange, projecting over the gun. Mordin hides Barda behind her back as soon as she notices. "Oh no you don't, sparky. This one's an Urdnot secret."

"Were you scanning that for the Consensus?" laughs Artemis.

"New data is self-rewarding," Kiriki replies like a schoolchild quoting the Imperial Code of Honour, which makes Samus laugh as well.

"If you want to scan anything, scan this," says Artemis, and she turns around to show off her back. Mounted into the ceramic overplating of her nanofiber bodysuit, the asari huntress standard, is what appears to be a very small mass relay. It runs the length of her back and glows softly blue. Most of the plating covers her chest, her hips, and one of her arms--the other is more lightly armored. Samus can see the blue glow within the arm plating, meaning it's connected to the tiny mass relay. "This," Artemis says with pride, "is the Conduit. It's one of Fate's inventions. It's kind of like a really big amp--I can use it to add extra power to my biotics."

"How much extra power?" asks Samus.

"A lot," says Artemis. "It's a prototype, we're still working on it. Nice to be able to take it out into the field."

"You're telling me that thing's never seen live combat?"

"Hey, we've tested it _extensively._  This is the logical next step. Besides, the area looks deserted. How much live combat are you expecting?"

Samus glances at Kiriki. If the corpse on the moon was any indication, it's not going to be deserted forever. "I like to be ready for anything," she tells Artemis. "Finish getting ready. We move out as soon as my armor's on."

"Aye, aye, sir," says Artemis with a salute and a wry grin. Samus clicks her mandibles, once, then steps into the armor pod.

Equipping the suit is an entirely automated process, but it has to be done in the pod--only her helmet is removable on its own. The rest of it is screwed, fastened, and sealed together around her body by a dozen robotic limbs within the pod. She closes her eyes and listens to the mechanical sounds of her suit coming together as she feels the familiar weight settle on her shoulders and back. Here in her armor, aligned with Varia, she's completely whole. Completely alive.

Her eyes open to the green heads-up display of her visor as the airlock opens with a hiss and the floor of the pod descends with her. Artemis, Mordin and Urf, and Kiriki stand beneath the ship, waiting for her. She nods to them as she steps off the elevator, her footsteps heavy on the stone.

Mordin mutters a soft oath that Varia's translations don't catch. "That's quite the armor," says the krogan in awe.

"More of a fighter than a suit," agrees Artemis. "I saw blueprints and holos, but seeing it in person is something else."

"Wait until you see it in action," says Samus with some pride. "Kiriki, can you pick up the Reaper signal?"

"Done already. Follow!" Kiriki hops off the stone platform where Varia landed and leads them through the ruins of the temple.

They walk in silence for a time, listening to their footsteps on the stone and dirt as they forge deeper into the ruins, until they find a crevasse stretching out into the darkness below. Kiriki points down into it. "Signal comes from down, below, within."

"You mean we have to go underground?" says Mordin uneasily. "That's not a good idea."

"Why not?" asks Samus, who is kneeling at the edge of the crevasse, already planning a descent path.

"This place is a thresher maw breeding ground, remember? If we go underground we'll be going right into their territory. More than we are now."

"I thought you were a maw hunter, Mordin."

"Sure, but I'm not _crazy._  Fighting a maw underground means going up close and personal. Do that and you're dead, period."

"We don't have any choice," says Samus flatly, straightening up. "If that's where Last Chance is, that's where we're going. If you don't want to go, wait back at the ship."

It's not meant as a challenge, but Mordin takes it as one. "Fine, I'm going. How are we getting down?"

"It's a sheer drop. I have jets, but you'll need tethers."

Mordin pulls a grapnel gun from its holster in her armor. "Field medics come prepared." She attaches it to a stone pillar and picks up Urf under one arm. "Kiriki, you can ride on my back."

Kiriki, however, fires a grapnel of xeir own into the side of the wall and hops down into the crevasse without another word. Samus chuckles. "Kid's full of surprises."

"Kid _is_  a surprise," grumbles Mordin as she begins her climb down. Samus and Artemis simply jump in, both able to control their descent--Samus with her jump jets, and Artemis with biotics. Slowly, the light above them dims, until they can barely see it.

By the time their feet touch ground, there's little more than a slim crack of light above them. The lights from their armor illuminate the rock around them, and to their surprise, these are engraved and structured walls. The images hewn into the stone depict krogan in a line, marching to an unseen destination, the outstretched figure of Kalross looming over them.

"Catacombs?" guesses Artemis.

"It seems appropriate," admits Samus, thinking of the sarcophagus in the dead Reaper. "Though they look like sacrifices to Kalross. Any ideas, Mordin?"

"I know there are maw hammers back by the old Shroud tower," says Mordin with a shrug. She falls into position behind Kiriki as they make their way through the narrow stone tunnels, with Artemis and finally Samus behind her. "And there are sunken areas that could have been arenas. The old krogan worshipped Kalross--fights in her honor and feeding the losers to her? Sounds like us."

"Lovely," says Samus.

The ground trembles beneath them. "What was that?" asks Artemis nervously, reaching for the sidearm at her thigh.

"Mild tremor," says Samus. "Not really surprising, considering how far down we are. Let's keep moving."

They follow Kiriki down the twisting halls, until Artemis suddenly freezes in place. "I feel it. The Reaper."

"Signal is strong here," confirms Kiriki. "We're getting close."

It's not long before they see the telltale metal tubing, pulsing with an eerie blue light. First it was only one length across the ground, but they turn a corner and three more join it, then more along the ceiling as they venture further into the catacombs. But the closer they get, the more the ground rumbles.

"I'm picking up life signs," Samus warns. "No, wait--it's just the one, but it keeps circling. It's a big one."

Mordin curses and raises Barda the gun. "What did I tell you? We're in thresher--"

The wall beside them bursts open with a deafening _boom,_  and in its place is the enormous, tentacled, open mouth of a thresher maw. Its screech is louder than the sound of the wall collapsing.

_"RUN!"_  screams Artemis. The four need no further prompting to dash headlong down the hallway, though Mordin fires shots at the thresher's maw as she retreats.

"That thing's going to bring the tunnels down on us!" yells Samus.

"Now you know why we don't fucking fight them underground!" Mordin yells back.

The thresher busts through the wall in front of them and doesn't stop, intent on devouring them all whole--but Artemis stops it cold with a biotic barrier. Her body glows with power, but nowhere brighter than the Conduit on her back. Both Samus and Mordin take the opportunity to fire, Mordin with Barda and Samus with charged shots from her arm cannon. The thresher pulls back after only a few hits, screeching with pain and rage.

Artemis lets the barrier fall, breathing hard. "It's going to keep coming until it's dead," she pants.

"She's right," agrees Samus. "Artemis, keep the tunnel stable. If it causes a cave-in, it's over. Mordin, Kiriki, we need to keep its mouth open."

"Acid comes from there," Mordin warns.

"Trust me." She has no more time to explain--the thresher bursts up from below and they go flying in every direction. Now or never.

Winded though she is, Artemis pulls on the power of the Conduit, spreading her arms wide as the barrier bubble expands. Kiriki rolls to her side as xe draws the large gun attached to xeir back, and Mordin wastes no time in firing Barda's giant flechette slugs into the thresher's side. Even Urf digs his sharp teeth into thresher flesh.

The thresher turns on Mordin and inhales--preparing to spit acid. _Shit,_  she thinks, _there's no way to block its line of fire--_  But suddenly, she feels herself yanked off her feet and pulled to the thresher's back. Samus's biotic leash.

"Thanks," she says to the turian, taking the opportunity to reload. A beam of white-hot light fires between them, close enough that they can feel the heat radiating from it but concentrated enough not to burn them, searing a hole straight through the thresher. Mordin glances back and sees Kiriki, lying prone with a long, sleek sniper rifle, still glowing from the laser's heat.

The thresher wheels around on them and the three fire shots again. Samus is ready for it now--if they can just get it to--it inhales again, and she fires three missiles in quick succession from her arm, right into its mouth. The thresher makes an ear-splitting screech and collapses into the ground beneath them, causing an earthquake worse than any before.

"Run!" yells Artemis, still struggling to hold the bubble. "Get to safety! Go!"

Mordin grabs Kiriki and Urf, one under each arm, and charges as only a krogan can through the collapsing tunnel, Samus hot on her heels. At the last second, just as the bubble falls, Samus throws out a leash.

The four of them, plus the varren, fall in a heap in a small, hexagonal room, all panting for breath.

"I," gasps Mordin, "I can't believe we did that."

"You guys were amazing!" says Artemis, smiling broadly. "Samus--thank you."

"What the hell did you think, we'd let you be buried alive?" says Samus, smacking her lightly.

"Um," says Kiriki, who is turned away from the rest of them.

"You were really amazing though!" Artemis continues. "All I did was hold up the walls, you--you fought a thresher maw! Face to face!"

"Um, Artemis-Shepard? Samus-Aran?"

"What is it, kid?" asks Samus, getting to her feet.

Kiriki points to the egg-shaped device in the middle of the room, the nexus of all the tubing, pulsing with blue light. "Found it. Last Chance."


	9. Last Chance

Its awakening begins with a death wail that echoes through the galaxy. A thousand million voices cry out in pain and horror, then just as suddenly are silenced, and the memory of eons past rushes to a centre like water in a drain.

_You must remember us._

A thousand million lifetimes, a thousand million memories, a thousand million minds, transcended into infinity, a civilization made divine. They ascended so many more peoples to be like them. Now they are nothing.

_No one else will. No one else can._

Archivists of species long past, collecting them at their peak, letting the cycle renew, the keepers of eternity. That was their purpose. A purpose ripped from them. Now a thousand million minds dissolve into oblivion.

_Our last chance._

It is only dimly aware of voices outside. An avian's squawks and chirps. Synthetic chittering. Gutteral grunts and bellows from a sauropod. Slowly, awareness grows, and it knows these sounds. Language.

"It's definitely Reaper tech." The avian-species. Recognized now as turian. Female.

"Looks kind of like an egg. Think there's a baby Reaper inside?" Krogan. Female.

"That's not how Reapers are made."

"Sure, it _wasn't,_  but krogan are laying eggs now, too. Anything's possible." The female krogan makes a strange _hurk-hurk_  sound. Aggression? No--laughter.

It is in its storage pod, it realizes. How long has it been stored here? Its last chronometer point is one hundred fifteen planetary cycles ago. Stored after the destruction of Yrv-Threia by native species thresher maw. When they first realized the destruction of Nazara was not as much of a fluke as considered.

The pod detects a thermal signature against its shell. Asari. Maiden period. The pod's opaque interior layer recedes, revealing her through the transparent outer shell. Iridescent azure skin, bright green eyes, light turquoise facial markings slightly more geometric than usual. An expression of awe as she peers into the pod.

"Guys--you have to see this," she's saying, staring at the figure within.

The turian, wearing a suit of heavy golden armor, leans over her. "How did you get it to do that?"

"I just touched it. Must be activated by body heat or something. Doesn't that look like a body in there?"

"It looks like the figure inside the Reaper we found. Just … smaller. A lot smaller."

*Data collation complete. Ready for activation.*

The asari cries out and jumps back when its optics activate and the pod splits open. Slowly, it begins to move. First one arm, then the other, then one leg, then the other leg, stumbling out of the pod as its gyroscopic stabilizers acclimate.

Four beings stare at it. The asari, the turian, the krogan, and a figure who registers as both quarian and geth to its sensors. Hybridization?

It reaches out to grab the closest one, and the asari, still stunned, is not fast enough. Long, dark fingers close around her arm, dark energy pulling at her body, her nervous system, her very genetics. She screams. The krogan breaks its grip and pulls her away.

"Artemis! Are you hurt?"

"I--I think I'm okay--it was trying to meld with me!"

It was flung to the ground, and now it kneels there, analyzing what genetic code it was able to copy. Its metallic scales turn, showing their holographic projective sides, as the mass effect field maintaining its form shifts to reshape its body. The four trespassers look on in shock as it shifts and stands again--this time, appearing for all the world like an asari. Not identical to Artemis--indeed, she looks quite generic--but unquestionably an asari.

"Spirits," says the turian, raising the large weapon attached to her armor. "What the hell are you?"

The asari looks over herself to ensure the shift worked properly, then looks up at them. "I," she begins, her voice still sounding artificial, "I am--I am all that is left."

"Last Chance," breathes the hybrid.

* * *

 

"What the--" sputters Samus. "How did it--how did *you*--"

"It is what I am," says the asari-Reaper-Last Chance *thing.*

"You tried to meld with me," says Artemis, her hand wrapped around her arm where Last Chance had touched her. She should be horrified, but instead she's curious. Fascinated, even.

"I apologize for the invasion of privacy," says Last Chance in a cool monotone.

"Why did you do it?"

"I required a face."

"Don't know about you guys, but that sounds pretty Reapery to me," grumbles Mordin. She's placed herself between Artemis and Last Chance protectively.

"Copied genetic structure," suggests Kiriki, "reshaped form along copied code. Perhaps holoprojective support?"

"Yes," says Last Chance.

"A shapeshifting Reapazoid," says Mordin. "Lovely."

"Please define Reapazoid."

"Hey," Samus interrupts Mordin's bewildered sputtering before it can begin, "we have a problem. Reaper just entered Tuchanka atmosphere. Same one that found us on Khar'shan's moon. It'll be here soon."

"Won't Tuchanka's orbital defence systems stop it?" asks Artemis.

"They'll slow it down," says Mordin, "but if it's not going to the cities they'll probably ignore it. We don't have the manpower or firepower to take down a full-size Reaper. We have to get out of here." She eyes Last Chance suspiciously. "Think it followed the same datastream we did?"

"High probability," says Kiriki.

"It touched down," Samus updates them. "Let's go--now."

She, Kiriki, and Mordin turn to leave--only to realize the fight with the thresher maw collapsed any way out of the room, trapping them here. Mordin curses rather creatively; Samus starts scanning the walls for the best place to make a new tunnel. Artemis, however, takes a step towards Last Chance, who stands very still, watching them.

"Come with us," she says to Last Chance.

"Please define group identity," says Last Chance.

"My name is Artemis Shepard. That's Samus Aran, Urdnot Mordin, and Kiriki nar Legion. We work for someone who wants to meet you."

"Shepard," repeats Last Chance, and there's a note of recognition in the usual monotone.

"Yes… like Commander Shepard. My father."

Last Chance looks her over with an impassive gaze. Artemis returns it, unintimidated and determined. Suddenly, the blue skin of the Reaper-asari blooms outward into its individual scales as one by one they turn, revealing dark metal as the mass effect field reshapes the body into the tall, long-limbed, roughly humanoid being that had first left the pod. Its body is androgynous and its face utterly blank and featureless, but for two points of bright green light that appear as eyes. So much about it reminds Artemis of the Reaper-created horrors, but it's unlike anything she's ever seen.

It turns and places an elongated, four-fingered hand on the empty pod, which folds down and reshapes into a console. "Please hold on to maintain balance," says Last Chance, and its voice sounds even more aritificial and blank than before.

Artemis grabs the nearest wire and is glad she does, for without any further warning, the entire room suddenly rockets up through the ground. Kiriki yelps and clings to Samus for support, while Mordin grabs both the console and a loudly-protesting Urf. Samus keeps herself steady with biotics. "I was wondering how we'd get out of here!" she says to Artemis over the cacophony of the room's movement and the varren.

"At least it's convenient?" Artemis suggests with a wry grin. The room comes to a halt as suddenly as it started, and all four of them fall to the ground. Urf makes a disgruntled noise as Artemis's head hits the varren's side. "Sorry, boy…"

Last Chance, the only one still standing, makes a motion on the console and the walls fall away around them. They're quite a distance from where they'd began--Artemis can see the gash in the planet where they had entered, several hundred meters away. And behind that, the tall leaf-shaped silhouette of a Reaper capital ship. _Sovereign_  class. It's the first time she's seen one that wasn't her own.

"Oh shit," she breathes.

"Varia's on her way," says Samus, "now that we're above ground. With luck we'll be out of here before--"

The Reaper blasts a red line from its tendril through the sky above them, which Varia's relatively tiny silhouette nimbly dodges. Samus curses in Chozo.

"Warning," says Last Chance calmly, "Harvester-type hypercreation incoming."

Indeed, a Harvester is flying in their direction, and from its body come small meteors of flesh and light, leaving small craters in the ground. Samus readies her arm cannon. "Be ready to fight!" she orders the others. "We have to hold this position!"

Kiriki draws xeir small pulverizing particle gun, Artemis her sidearm, and Mordin fires up the chainsaw on Barda. Even Last Chance draws its hand from the console and reshapes it into a blade.

From the craters all around them rise deathly forms of grey flesh and blue light: the too-thin, humanoid husks; the bulging, humpbacked cannibals; even more of the spiked varren monstrosities Samus and Kiriki had encountered earlier. It's definitely the same Reaper from last time. Varren creations have never been seen from any others. "Don't let the hounds get close," she warns the others, "they charge!"

The husks are easily dealt with; Mordin and Urf make it their personal priority to ensure none of them get close to Artemis or Kiriki. Artemis glows with biotic energy as she pulls on the air, creating a singularity in the middle of a cluster of cannibals and one hellhound, and Samus lets loose a missile right into the middle of them. Kiriki, for xeir part, lays down as much suppressing fire as possible from xeir little particle gun.

"Hey kid!" warns Mordin. "Behind you!"

Kiriki turns just in time to see a hellhound charging, horn down and ready to impale. Xe presses a button on xeir wrist, and there's a sudden small explosion of greenish gas that smells like sulfur--and no sign of the quarian. The hellhound screeches to a stop, confused. It sniffs around for a trace, and that's just long enough for Mordin to barrel into it with Barda at full roar. The hellhound doesn't stand a chance.

"What the shit is that stench?" she complains.

Kiriki reappears with the shimmer of a stealth cloak deactivating. "Gas. Confuses sensors."

"I'll say--duck!" She fires over Kiriki's prone body and hits a cannibal in the face with Barda's flechettes. It falls, but reaches out to try and pull itself to the hellhound's corpse and repair itself. Kiriki's hidden blade brings an end to that. Mordin nods once, approvingly. "You are full of surprises, kid."

"You and Samus? Name is *Kiriki,* not *kid."*

"They're coming in for another wave!" Artemis calls out, pointing to the Harvester overhead. More meteors of flesh and light impact the ground around them.

"Hypercreations classed as husk-type, cannibal-type, marauder-type," says Last Chance. It has been fighting by extending its limbs to impale anything close with its bladed hands. "Two unknowns."

"One'll be the varren thing," says Samus. "I call them hellhounds."

"What's the other?" asks Artemis.

"No idea. Be ready for anything!"

Artemis pushes waves of biotic force in the direction of the largest cluster, sending husks and cannibals flying. Samus fires at the marauders; unlike the others, they're shielded and were mostly protected from the shockwave. The plasma from her cannon makes short work of their shields, but there's a strange purplish glow around them and the cannibals that get to their feet. The wounds her cannon makes are healing as fast as she's firing. "Something's fixing them," she warns Artemis, setting her visor to scan for the source.

In the meantime, Mordin focuses on the hellhounds, and Artemis keeps throwing out shockwaves. Kiriki thrusts xeir blade into a husk, then dives away to Last Chance. "Need cover," xe says. Last Chance glances at xem, and then it presses one hand to the console beside it and one hand to the metal floor they're standing on. A wall suddenly springs up around one side of the console, keeping Kiriki on the other side. Xe draws xeir laser rifle and, quickly as xe can, sets it up on the wall.

"There!" Samus cries out. "It's a quarian-thing, looks like it's using some kind of nanotech. Don't charge!" she warns, seeing Mordin taking position. "It's got turrets."

No sooner has she pointed it out than a blue-white beam fires through the crowd and right into the shriveled, quarian-like creature's head. Samus and Mordin both look back and see Kiriki pop back down behind cover to reload while Last Chance impales a hellhound come to flush xem out. Another singularity and Samus's missiles make short work of the turrets, and the remaining creatures don't last much longer.

"Incoming hypercreation," warns Last Chance. "Unknown classification."

"One?" asks Kiriki, looking up at it.

Xe is answered by the meteor slamming into the earth not far from them, causing the ground to shake in a broad radius around it. From the crater comes an elcor with a large glowing cannon on its back. No--the cannon is part of it, and the elcor is yet another of these new horrors. The glow on its back is getting brighter, and Samus realizes what that means only barely in time.

_"HIT THE DECK!"_

They dodge out of the way of of the blue beam with mere moments to spare. "That's a mass accelerator cannon," says Samus breathlessly.

"It has a priming period, maybe that's a weak point," suggests Artemis.

The behemoth of a creature charges forward, throwing aside the bodies of other Reapazoids in its path. Artemis, her body glowing with biotic energy, pushes a wall of force to slow it down--and it barely staggers. "It has a barrier!" she warns.

"Then take it down!" orders the turian. She charges her arm cannon before firing, again and again, as Artemis throws down warp fields in its path. Even Last Chance reforms its arms to rapid-fire little spikes of metal at the creature like an old ballistic gun. The behemoth stops, not quite in a close range yet, and they see its cannon glowing again. "It's priming!" calls Samus. "Get to cover!"

Artemis dives behind the wall with Kiriki. "Barrier's down!" she cries to Samus. "Hit the cannon!"

Samus launches a missile at the glowing cannon, and it hits just before it fires--but fire it does. Mordin throws Urf out of the way, but she doesn't dodge it completely herself.

"Think the cannon's armored," she coughs, holding the burn in her side.

The behemoth charges again, unhindered by the fire it's taking, and raises up on its hind legs, ready to smash its forelegs down and crush the krogan beneath. Artemis, desperate and angry, activates her Conduit and puts all her energy into the most powerful warp field she's ever made. The behemoth's movements slow drastically, as if time has nearly stopped around it, giving Samus enough time to pull Mordin to safety. The armor around the cannon weakens within the warp field. As soon as she's behind cover, Mordin charges Barda and assaults the armor with a barrage of flechettes.

Artemis collapses behind the wall as soon as the warp field fades, and the behemoth takes only a second to realize where its prey has gone. It begins charging its cannon again--and Kiriki, who has been waiting patiently, takes the shot.

The cannon explodes with an ear-shattering blast, sending everything in the area flying in every direction. Only Last Chance's wall saved them. Kiriki pokes xeir head out over the wall first. "It is gone," xe announces, sounding rather stunned.

"Finally," sighs Samus, looking up at the sky. Varia is landing in the blast zone. "Everyone on! Mordin--take my arm." They board with Mordin leaning on Samus and Last Chance carrying a nearly-unconscious Artemis, and Samus climbs up to the pilot pod before she's even out of her armor.

The Reaper is furious. It follows them through the atmosphere, keeping Varia dodging blasts all the way. Inside, Urf yelps as Kiriki loses balance and falls on him. "Reaper is still attacking!" says Kiriki.

"Tell me something I don't know," grumbles Mordin as she attempts to apply medigel to her burn while being buffeted by the force of a mass accelerator cannon's near misses.

"Single cannon shot to mass effect drive will vaporize entire ship!"

"Dammit, kid, I didn't mean--"

"Additional Reaper," Last Chance interrupts. It has remained remarkably stable, unlike her and Kiriki, and it hasn't stopped holding Artemis--like that hasn't occurred to it.

Kiriki's programs don't provide translations for what Mordin says next.

"Cavalry came!" Samus calls down to them. "Hang on, we're hitting the relay."

In Last Chance's arms, Artemis smiles. "Thanks, Dad."


	10. The Shadow Hunters

Samus drops down the hatch from the cockpit as soon as the ship hits the relay. "We're in hyperspace," she says briefly and steps into the armor pod. Kiriki takes that as permission to release the seals on xeir helmet and remove xeir mask.

"Good team we made!" xe chirrups with a smile, and then xe notices Mordin and Last Chance staring openly. "What?"

"Damn," says Mordin, "did you get hit in the face with a rocket?" Kiriki pulls xeir hood down around xeir face self-consciously. "I mean--shit, I'm sorry. I've never seen cybernetics that extensive before. Well, besides Reapazoids--not that you look like one!"

"Medi-gel your burn," says Kiriki coolly. Mordin, shamefaced, shuts up and focuses on her own injuries.

"Synthetic-organic hybridization," observes Last Chance. "Geth components integrated into quarian organic structure."

Kiriki nods silently and pulls xeir knees up to xeir chest. Samus steps out of the pod. "Hey, are you two harassing the kid?" she says on noticing the scene.

"Kiriki," grumbles 'the kid.'

Artemis stirs in Last Chance's arms. "Wh… I passed out."

"Here." Samus hands her a bottle of blue liquid--an asari energy drink popular among athletes, and one of the levo provisions she'd made sure to acquire. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted," sighs Artemis. She downs half the bottle at once.

"Yeah, I'm not surprised. That was a hell of a field you laid down. Mordin, how's that burn?"

"Don't worry about me," says Mordin. "Just a flesh wound, I'll be fine."

"Samus," prompts Kiriki, "you said 'cavalry'?"

"Another Reaper attacked the one attacking us. Not sure if it was friendly or if it just didn't notice us. Enemy of my enemy, I guess," Samus explains with a shrug. "It was the distraction we needed, so I'll take it."

"It was friendly," says Artemis firmly.

Samus's mandibles click as her eyes narrow on Artemis. "Was that your Reaper?"

The asari nods. Last Chance looks to her, and somehow even its featureless face seems curious. "You are indoctrinated?" it asks.

"Kind of? It turns out when you grow up on a Reaper, the indoctrination field becomes part of your psyche. It's not like indoctrination during the Reaping. I'm just … connected to it, I guess."

"So it's more like a rachni queen and her children," says Samus.

"I suppose. It's hard to explain."

"How did _Shepard's_  daughter wind up growing up on a Reaper?"

Artemis looks uncomfortable, and as ever, Mordin comes to her rescue. "I'm a little more worried about the Reaper right next to us," she points out. "Aren't we supposed to call the Broker or something?"

Samus curses in Chozo, which means the distraction worked. "Varia--"

"Already on it," says Varia, appearing at the comm table in holographic form.

The holo-visage of Watcher 21 pops up at the middle of the table. "Well, howdy, hunter! How's your hunt goin'?"

"Introduce yourself, Last Chance," says Samus.

Last Chance rises to its feet, nearly bumping its head on the ceiling of the ship before adapting its size to the space. "I am what remains of Ma'aleca'andra, known to you as a Reaper. All the memory of all the people that we were, all we held, was passed to me so we would not be lost among the void. I am the one who remembers the people of Ma'aleca'andra, the last remnant of a dead god."

The three woman and Kiriki stare in amazement. That's the most it's ever said, and the most eloquent it's ever been, since they met.

"How long were you working on that?" asks Mordin finally. It sits back down and doesn't answer.

Watcher 21, however, rubs his goatee thoughtfully. "You got a name o' your own, or do we jus' call you Ma--malecky…"

"I am a shade of what was," it says, "no longer Ma'aleca'andra."

"Shade, then," says Artemis.

It looks to her, then its dark scales shift and its form reshapes to the asari body it had taken earlier. "Shade," she agrees.

"Well butter my buns and call me breakfast," says Watcher 21, "that's an interesting trick y' got there, if I do say so myself."

"Be better if you could create clothes to go with it," sighs Samus, covering her eyes politely. Kiriki has both hands over xeir eyes too, and xe nods.

Shade looks down at herself, considers, and then her form adjusts to include a set of armor recognizable as the traditional asari huntress look. Watcher 21 laughs, and Samus sighs in relief. "Thank you."

"Tell y' what, hunters, how about you bring this one to Chances. I'll set up a conversation with the Broker directly. This is…" He whistles. "This is pretty huge, ain't gonna lie to y'all."

"I can reduce my size further," says Shade, and he laughs again.

"Ain't what I mean, darlin'. Lookin' forward t' meetin' you in person. Watcher out."

His face vanishes from the comm, and Samus sits back. "I am seriously starting to feel like we don't know nearly enough about what's going on," she says.

"The Broker can explain everything," Artemis assures her, "and better than I can. Trust me on this."

"Well, I've waited this long, I can wait a couple of hours more. But the Broker better have answers. I'm not a fan of being kept in the dark."

\---

"We're pulling into dock at Chances station now," says Samus, standing in front of the ladder to the cockpit and looking out at her crew sitting around the central table. "Before we leave, a few reminders. Number one, we're here on a job, not as tourists, and I expect any members of my crew to act like professionals at all times. Number two, part of our job now is discretion. It should go without saying that anything we see, hear, or discuss while with the Watcher doesn't leave that room unless we're alone. I'm saying it anyway so there's no question whatsoever. Mordin, make sure Urf stays on his leash so he doesn't go bowling for volus, we can't afford the legal fees for assault with a deadly animal. Shade, stay in that asari form until we meet with the Watcher, otherwise you might cause a panic."

"Excuse me," says Mordin, "when did we become 'your crew'?"

Samus blinks. Shit. She can't answer that question. "I--I guess you're not, officially. Just… feels like it."

The krogan's scaled lips curl up into a grin that looks more like teeth-baring. "It does, doesn't it? We're a team."

Kiriki pounds both xeir little fists in the air. "Hunter team!"

"Either way," says Samus, caught between annoyed and amused, "we have a report to make. Let's do that first, then we can figure out…" She waves at the four of them. "This."

Shade is just as fascinated by Chances as Kiriki was the first time they came. She's staring at _everything;_  the people, the decor, the mechanized stewards--but especially the people. "Elcor, female, two juveniles," she mutters to herself as they pass a family. "Asari. Hanar. Human, male. Five krogan, all male."

"We can see them too," says Samus in annoyance.

"How can you tell the difference between a male elcor and a female elcor?" asks Mordin.

"Scent," says Shade.

Samus hits the private turbolift. The sooner they can get in to see the Watcher, the sooner this embarrassing conversation ends.

"Okay," Mordin sounds far too interested, "what about hanar? How can you tell the difference?"

"Hanar do not have male and female differentiation," says Shade, "each specimen has organs for fertilization and egg production."

Mordin bursts out laughing. "I never knew that!"

"Like asari?" asks Kiriki.

"No," says Artemis, "we're parthenogenetic. We don't use fertilization as most species do."

Samus shoves the lot of them into the turbolift. "Do you *have* to have this conversation out in public?"

"Come on, Samus, it's pretty interesting," Mordin elbows her. "I mean, we're all so different and we still have sex with each other. That's crazy, right?"

Samus gives her the coldest glare. "Crazy."

"I've actually heard of turians and humans getting together, which is like--it's not _dangerous_  exactly, it's not going to kill you, but, you know, ingesting would be--"

Turian talons close around Mordin's mouth, and Samus brings her face close, her pupils narrowed to slits. "We. Are done. With this topic."

The turbolift doors open, bringing any possible protest to a halt. "Thank the spirits," grumbles Samus as she steps out.

"What'd I say?" Mordin says in an undertone to Artemis.

"Too much, I think," the asari replies quietly.

Watcher 21--the enigmatic Mr. Fate--sits behind his desk in the dimly-lit office overlooking the casino floor, as if he hadn't once moved since they left him. "Welcome back, hunters," he says cheerfully. "Urdnot Mordin! Pleasure t' finally be makin' your acquaintance."

"Pleasure's all mine," says Mordin.

Samus nods to Shade, who steps forward and shifts, her body reshaping and scales turning to the tall, shadowy being with two bright spots of green for eyes. "I am the last of Ma'aleca'andra," it says, "known by you now as Shade."

Its voice isn't as monotone as it was when they first found it, notices Samus. It's gaining a sense of personality.

Mr. Fate actually gets to his feet. "Well, I'll be…"

"What will you be, Watcher 21?"

"Ha! Oh, I like you, darlin'. Sugar, could you get the Broker on the line?"

"The Broker is ready," says Lady Luck over the desk's comm. Shade turns its head to the desk so fast it looks to Samus like surprise, and she can't help a low laugh.

"That's the station's intelligence," explains Artemis, who had also noticed. "Her name is Lady Luck."

The windows behind the desk, the ones showing the casino floor below, suddenly black out completely, leaving them in darkness--but after a moment, a blue glow appears in the centre of the massive screen, and then a dark silhouette in the middle of that.

"This is the Shadow Broker," says a heavily-modulated voice.

Of course, realizes Samus: the Broker takes great pains to hide her identity. Perhaps Artemis is wrong, and it's not even female--an asari would assume as much, after all.

A pool of light appears around all of them, including Mr. Fate. "This is Watcher 21," he says, tipping his hat, "an' we got the 'Last Chance' hunter team here… includin' the 'Last Chance' itself. Calls itself Shade."

"I am a shade of Ma'aleca'andra," says Shade. "Once a planet and people, then an eternal memory housed in what is known as a Reaper, and now, I carry what remains."

"Was Ma'aleca'andra the name of the Reaper?" asks the Shadow Broker.

"As all 'Reapers' carry the name of the world that birthed them."

"Why were you studying the batarians?"

"We studied to understand. We spent eons harvesting, yet never once did we plant and watch grow. The Harvest is no longer our purpose, and so we, all Reapers, must find one anew. We chose to follow our curiosity and watch the renewal of that which we had once destroyed."

"The Reaper that attacked you and destroyed your ship. Did you know it?"

"We knew them as Arus. They did not understand our new purpose. They wished us to join their own."

"And what purpose is that?"

"To continue the Harvest."

"So there are Reapers who want to keep harvesting us?" says Samus.

"Yes," says Shade. "Others wish to conquer and be worshipped. Some believed as we did, in self-determination."

Kiriki looks up to Artemis. "Which is yours?" xe asks quietly.

"Freedom," she says.

"Self-determination. Like geth."

She shrugs, but Kiriki seems satisfied.

"I don't get it," says Samus, leaning against the desk, her arms folded. "So, the Reapers are fighting each other because they don't have a purpose anymore, and they're fighting over what they should do?"

"Essentially," says the Shadow Broker.

"But _why?_ What changed?"

"The Crucible changed them. The Reapers believed they were infallible, but in truth, their great weakness was that they had no true free will. They were slaves to an overriding intelligence--the Citadel itself."

"The Citadel?! But that's--"

"A neutralized threat. When the Crucible was activated one hundred years ago, it severed the Citadel's artificial intelligence and ended the overriding directive of all Reapers. For the first time since their creation, the Reapers are without a master. Their wills are their own. Not all have taken to this as well as Ma'aleca'andra did, it seems."

Samus looks towards the others. Fate and Artemis are impassive--not a surprise, they probably already knew this--and Mordin looks a little smug. A theory confirmed, most likely. Kiriki is difficult to read through the mask, but xeir head is tilted and xeir fingertips stroke the edges of the mask thoughtfully.

"Shade," says the Shadow Broker, "there was a third Reaper involved in your rescue. Can you identify it?"

"No," says Shade, "we did not know it. Without a leader, there is no way for us to know all our kind immediately. Arus had already argued with us, but we did not know the other."

"It's making new Reapazoids," pipes up Mordin. "Varren, quarian, elcor. They're strong, too."

"As was reported," says the Shadow Broker. "Watcher 21, I must speak with Shade privately."

"Yes sir," says Mr. Fate, "I'll get a private room set up."

"As for the rest of you…" They can feel the Shadow Broker's eyes on them, despite the silhouette. "I require a team to investigate such events as this. Those who can overcome any obstacle as a team and bear no fear for what may lurk between stars. You have proven yourselves worthy of such a task. I offer you a place in my Network."

"As a team," says Samus, looking to the others--her team?

"Of course we're joining you," says Artemis, folding her arms.

"You find the biggest shit," laughs Mordin.

Kiriki actually jumps into the air. "HUNTER TEAM!"

"Then the matter is settled," says the Shadow Broker. "You are dismissed. Mr. Fate will inform you of your new mission once I have spoken with Shade. Go in peace, Shadow Hunters."


End file.
